


A Groove of Perpetual Motion

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), Marvel
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, First Meeting, Fluff, Hate to Love, High School, Humor, M/M, Pining, Tony POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 12:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: Tony Stark’s pretty sure where he stands with Steve Rogers. They got off on the wrong foot on day one, and since then there’s been minimal tolerance and thinly-veiled dislike between them. Tony’s certain that this would never ever change, not even when he gains some unexpected new information that suggests that Steve’s feelings for him aren’t what he thought. Because it cannot be true. It’s impossible. Surely?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Numfar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Numfar/gifts).



> This was written for Numfar, who won a fic from me for the Marvel Trumps Hate auction! She asked for highschool hate-then-love, and boy oh boy my brain liked that combo very much.
> 
> For the unfamiliar, Avengers Academy is a light-hearted universe where various Marvel characters that shouldn’t co-exist do co-exist, many of them as peers. It’s a pocket universe that runs on its own crack-fueled timeline-irrelevant logic. For this fic’s purpose, the Academy functions as a superhero prep school and all the students are teenagers. I've also played around with "canon" a bit, where Steve and Tony have a different first meeting and it spirals from there.
> 
> Other pairings in this fic: Steve Rogers/Tigra (past), Janet Van Dyne/Thor, Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanoff, Pepper Potts/Matt Murdock, Sam Wilson/Kamala Khan. (All based on game canon, btw.)
> 
>   
> 

When Tony arrives at Avengers Hall, there are three people already there: Nick Fury, Pepper Potts, and an unfamiliar tall blob with fair hair whom Tony – currently suffering from frustration-induced tunnel vision – barely registers.

“You can’t just summon me,” Tony says, waving his communicator in the air. “You know I’m in the middle of upgrading the power grid.”

“That can wait,” Fury says.

“Look, the last time the power went out Natasha was _this_ close to leading a coup—”

“Welcome wagon, Stark,” Fury says.

That brings Tony up short, knocking the hundreds of thoughts in his brain out of whack. He glances at the new guy, noting a height and build that could be useful if they ever decide to form a sporting team of some sort. There are specs for a stadium lying around somewhere in the SHIELD building; Tony should probably search for those and tweak them before Fury gets to work.

“What about Jan?” Tony says plaintively.

“She got into a fight with Amora,” Pepper says. Turning to address the newcomer, she says, “That’s Enchantress. She’s from Asgard, you’ll know her the moment you see her. Ares has the two of them working out their energies constructively.”

“People would pay money to watch that,” Tony says.

“Tony,” Pepper says.

Tony grins. “But I’d pay money to watch _you_ —”

“There are eight other students on campus,” Fury says. “And the only two who are currently not busy are Loki and yourself, and I’d rather go with you.”

“Aww,” Tony says. “But—”

“This is Steve.” Fury nods at the new student who, for some reason, straightens up. Other details finally trickle in: blue eyes and a gee-whiz all-American earnestness set in a face that probably needs to be warned up front about Enchantress. Fury adds, with a hint of unusual solemnness: “Steve Rogers.”

“Hah,” Tony says. “Your parents Captain America fans?”

The new guy opens his mouth, but Fury cuts in: “He _is_ Captain America, Stark.”

Tony laughs, then stops laughing when no one else joins in. Fury looks dead serious, Pepper looks dead serious and mildly concerned, and Steve just seems a little embarrassed to be put on the spot.

 _Actual_ Captain America, in the flesh, and not looking like he’d been spending the past sixty years rooming with the Crypt Keeper. Tony thinks he should feel more alarmed than he actually is, but Fury’s a man with too many secrets, there’s a timefog at the edge of campus, and even the most reasonable explanation that Steve’s been cryo-frozen is probably less fantastical than whatever his real story is.

“Sure, why not,” Tony says. “Come on, I haven’t got all day.”

Tony starts to leave, but is halted by Steve’s turning to Fury and, with nothing but sincerity dripping off every word, “Thank you so much for the opportunity, sir. I won’t let you down.”

Geez Louise. The others are going to eat this guy alive.

Tony catches Pepper’s eye, despite her tapping away on her tablet. “Call me,” he says, miming holding a phone to his ear.

“No, Tony,” Pepper says without looking up.

When they finally do get moving, Tony realizes with a pang that he’s going to have to actually _walk_. At least Jan and Wilson can fly; showing them around would’ve taken five minutes, tops. But nope, Tony’s got to do this the long way round and try not to get lost, while a disturbingly fresh-faced Captain America takes in all the sights with interest.

“Avengers Hall, you already know,” Tony says. “Quad. Dorms. You got your room already?”

“I haven’t been in yet, but I have my keys, yes.” Steve pulls out a set of keys from his pocket, and flips the tag over. “I’m on the second floor. How about you?”

“Ah, no,” Tony says. “I stay at the Tower.”

“The…” Steve follows Tony’s gesture, eyes growing wide as they move up the tall, sleek building that tapers upward, with a flat helipad set against the penthouse. “I thought that was the administrative building.”

Tony laughs. “What, the big ‘ol STARK printed on it wasn’t a clue? It’s not as big as the original – have you seen it? It’s in the city. Anyway, this is the Academy version. Fury let me set it up in exchange for everything else I’m doing.”

Steve looks bewildered. “Everything… else?”

“Basically, anything you see on campus that’s awesome came from me. The dorms, the classrooms – those are Fury’s designs and make. The labs, the training centers? Ohohoho, that’s _me_. You’re welcome.”

Steve blinks. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it,” Tony says. “The actual admin building is over there. That’s SHIELD, though if you ask me it’s way too big to _just_ have offices.”

“As opposed to your Tower, which is for one person?”

Tony starts a little, but there’s little to read off of Steve’s expression of curiosity. “That’s the minimum size required to contain this much magnificence, sorry to say. Anyway, the SHIELD building. That’s off-limits to all students for now, including you, including me, but not including Pepper because she’s Fury’s right-hand woman. I think she has an office of her own actually, but I have zero evidence to back that up, so don’t quote me.”

“Pepper does seem like a lady who’d make good use of an office,” Steve says. “You are… going steady with her, I think is the term?”

“Me and Pep? Hah! No.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “I thought you were sharing… you know. Lover’s banter.”

“We’re not dating _yet_ , but it’s just a matter of time,” Tony says, winking at him. “Over there’s the Timeless Archives. Library slash internet café slash research rooms. Those are more dorms, which are empty for now but everyone’s pretty optimistic at the place filling up quick – hey, Natasha!”

Natasha slows down her walking past them, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “New guy.”

“Hello,” Steve says. “I’m Steve.”

“Don’t need to do that,” Tony says, bumping Steve with an elbow. “She’ll have your personal files hacked and memorized by the end of the day. But she keeps _my_ file hidden under her pillow. With little hearts on it.”

“You’re hilarious.” Natasha’s gaze sweeps Steve up and down, accessing. “See you around.”

“So that’s Natasha,” Tony says, once she’s wandered off. “It’s her mission in life to get on Fury’s nerves, so you’d think we’d be tight, but the woman’s a mystery.”

“I don’t understand,” Steve says. “If you’re going to date Pepper, why would you say that thing about Natasha keeping your file with hearts on it?”

“Oh, you know.” Tony shrugs, but Steve’s face doesn’t change. “It’s a joke.”

“So it’s supposed to be funny?” Steve asks.

“Yes,” Tony says slowly. “You know, because I’m amazing and Natasha would obviously have a crush on me.”

Steve considers this. “Like how Pepper is ‘obviously’ close to going out with you despite her tone and word choice expressing absolutely none of that?”

Tony bristles.

It’s a good thing he wears his rocket boots all the time because it cancels out the height difference between him and Steve, and Tony can stare right into those ridiculous blues in trying to decipher how much of that was intentional mockery despite Steve’s placid, almost matter-of-fact delivery.

Is the moment getting awkward? Well, _tough._ Tony isn’t going to be the one to blink first.

Steve is smiling, but there’s an edge of pointed politeness in that smile that has Tony thinking about Santa Claus, tallying points somewhere and marking a dramatic negative number on his list. This is worse than if Steve frowned or sneered, both reactions of which Tony would at least have known what to do with.

“I guess jokes didn’t exist yet in your time, huh,” Tony says.

“Maybe not,” Steve says easily. “Or maybe jokes that are thinly-disguised attempts to harass women just aren’t that funny.”

Tony sputters. “That – that’s not harassment. Did you see Natasha’s biceps? She can knock me out with a backhand.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Oh, so you’ve been here for what, five minutes, and you’re suddenly an expert on everyone? You know what’s what about everything?”

For a second, Steve’s gaze shifts to the middle distance, but then it returns, steady and calm. “No, I’m definitely not an expert. I’m just making an observation.”

“It’s a stupid observation.” Tony knows that’s a weak reply as soon as he’s said it, and quickly covers with, “You think that just because you’re Captain America I’m gonna be intimidated? Roll over, beg for your approval? No, not going to happen, sorry to disappoint.”

“I don’t expect anything like that at all,” Steve says sighing.

“Could’ve fooled me. I thought you were supposed to hate bullies.”

Steve inhales sharply, eyes hardening. “And I thought you were supposed to be as brilliant as your father.”

Tony’s mouth falls open.

“Screw this.” Tony taps his wrists, bringing the rocket boots and repulsors on his hands to life. After a quick flip off in Steve’s face, Tony takes to the sky, soaring head first.

It’s almost half a day before Tony fully calms down and is able to acknowledge that that was a dumb way to kick things off with anyone, whether or not they’re a goody-two-shoes Captain America. The Academy is still new and finding its feet, and Tony really wants the place to take off for real, and not just because he wants to put together a mathlete team to wipe the floor with the A.I.M. team’s faces.

Fury has never asked for or implied anything to this effect, but Tony kinda feels responsible for the school. He’s the Academy’s first student, after all, and he’s had a hand in about half the facilities on campus, shining them up for the soon-to-be flood of new arrivals. No matter what some may imply, the Academy isn’t a replacement for Stark Industries, because the Academy is new and exciting and _actually_ collaborative.

It would not do at all for Tony to make the place unwelcoming to any student, no matter who they are or how annoying they can be. Having to adapt to a new place, let alone a new time, must be daunting as hell.

It’s with that thought in mind that Tony descends from the Tower hoping to, if not make amends, then at least smooth things over and restore some of the Academy’s reputation in the mind of its newest arrival.

Most of the campus is still dark and unused in the evening, making it easy to spot any activity. Club A in particular is up and jumping, so Tony heads that way.

As Tony approaches, he hears music and laughter, and the occasional crack on the pool table. His steps slow, and the determination that had propelled him out here slowly trickles away, replaced by unexpected apprehension.

The main section of Club A is open air, with the robot-tended bar and open dance floor its main attractions. From a distance Tony can see the bodies milling around that space. Loki is, unsurprisingly, dancing by himself with his usual intensity, but there are other people, too.

Steve is there, holding a cue stick and watching as Sam Wilson leans over the table to take his shot. Sam gets one in and pumps his fist, before turning to share a high-five with Steve. Tigra is there, too, twirling her own cue stick behind her back casually. At the bar, Amora’s sitting on a stool but is facing the game being played, watching with interest.

Tony stands where he is, startled, and dismayed at being startled.

Steve’s only been here for a couple of hours, and he’s already made friends. Friends he can laugh and hang around with like it’s nothing, like it’s _easy_.

“Hi, Tony!” Jan says, appearing by Tony’s side.

“Hey, Jan,” Tony says distantly. “That’s Steve Rogers.”

“Yes, it is!” Jan whips out her phone, thrusting the screen in Tony’s face. “You didn’t heart the photo post I made earlier. Look, look – Enchantress tried to get Steve to do her bidding and he _shut her down_ , can you believe it?”

“What?” Tony tears his eyes away from the club and looks down at the phone.

Sure enough there’s a photo of Steve and Enchantress facing each other on the quad, Steve with that same too-polite face while Amora’s mouth is open in a snarl, while in the background there’s a blurry Loki who seems to be clapping. Tony hadn’t seen that expression on Amora before, though it oddly suits her features.

“Tony?” Jan says. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I mean, I guess it’s time Amora didn’t get her way.”

“Aww.” Jan links her arm in Tony’s, squeezing. “I know you think Enchantress is hot, but that’s okay, you’re allowed to have character flaws.”

“Steve doesn’t,” Tony says. “Not this one, anyway.”

Jan gasps. “Wait, is this like, a rivalry blooming before my eyes right now?”

Tony looks back up. Over at the club, Steve runs a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, which has the added bonus of causing his biceps to flex in interesting ways. A few feet over, both Amora and Loki pause what they’re doing to watch.

Steve’s not even _trying_.

“I guess it is,” Tony says grimly.

“I love it,” Jan says. “We’re a real school now.”


	2. Time to be the Best

It takes a while, but the flood does come and Tony gets the mathlete team he wanted. He also gets an extended campus, unnecessarily intense competitiveness with other schools, and a whole range of interesting people to study with, work with, and make fun of.

Though none of them are able to beat that first flush of animosity incited by one Steve Rogers.

Oh, it gets close. Peter Quill’s a douche, Darren Cross seems to exist only to irritate everyone, and the less said about Norman Osborne the better. But there’s no one like Steve Rogers: ace student, class president, spartan champion, and voted Most Likely to Become President of the Multiverse.

Jan was mostly joking about the rivalry thing, but Tony took it seriously for all of a few weeks, after which it became clear that if there could ever be a rivalry between them, it would only exist in Tony’s head. Steve does his own thing with his friends and activities (most of which are oriented to the tendency to punch first), so although they see each other often around campus, the Venn Diagrams of their existence overlap very little.

Which is a good thing, because in the segment that _does_ overlap, Tony seems only ever capable of sniping at Steve, who shows off his skills as a living shield by letting every single word bounce off him without effect.

Once, when the campus was invaded by Chitauri, Steve suggested they set up teams to sweep the campus and herd them out one by one. There were only a handful of them in the Academy’s student committee at the time: Steve, Pepper, Natasha, Bruce, and Tony, and they’d gathered at the Avengers Hall at the first call of the alarm.

“You can’t fistfight Chitauri,” Tony said. “Am I the only one who recognizes what a dumbass suggestion that is?”

“What’s your solution?” Steve said. “Don’t say robots.”

“Robots work!” Tony said.

“Unless they malfunction again, and we need to battle two factions instead of one.”

Tony glared at Steve from across the committee table. “Excuse me for offering an option where no one gets hurt.”

“Is that the real reason?” Steve said.

“If you think this is about grandstanding—”

“They’re about to destroy the War Arena,” Pepper said, studying her tablet. “We might want to come to a decision quickly.”

“We do have more strong students now,” Bruce said. Tony stared at him, utterly betrayed. “Kamala, Jessica and, uh, Hulk should be able to handle the heavy hitters.”

“Robots would be good for the clean-up sweep,” Natasha said.

“I’m okay with that,” Steve said. “Tony?”

Tony unclenched his jaw, accepting that it was an exercise in futility to ask why Steve okay’ed the suggestion when it was Natasha making it. “Fine. Let’s assemble, then.”

Steve had nodded, as though it had a reasonable discussion like all the other other reasonable discussions he’d had as class president, and if anyone was seething about anything that was their own problem and no one else’s.

So, yes, it’s mostly that, or variations of that, for a while.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Steve didn’t have such a strong imprint on the school. Tony would love to return Steve’s favor of forgetting that he exists most of the time, but it’s trickier to pull off when his influence is everywhere.

Steve takes his position as a role model and leader seriously, and that’s reflected in the library’s books, the gym’s equipment, and Club A’s alcohol-free drinks list. There’s the announcements that Pepper sends to all students on the online mailing list near daily, which is not officially at Steve’s behest but Tony can totally tell is, for instead of consisting entirely of threats (from Pepper), there are also inspiring anecdotes, reports on small accomplishments across campus (“Doreen rescued Hairball from the top of clocktower!”) and friendly if nagging reminders not to forget homework or an upcoming test.

Tony can’t even commiserate with the few people who _don’t_ like Steve, because they’re all awful. Well, Taskmaster and Doc Ock are awful, and Amora is best stayed away from in general.

“Sometimes I wish I were more like you,” Tony confesses one day to Jan.

She replies, without missing a beat: “If you wanted to be even _more_ like me, you’d have to get a better pair of boobs.”

They’re in the park, just the two of them, sitting underneath the grand oak tree. They’re supposed to be working on their projects for Hank Pym, and in theory they are, because they’re absorbing the atmosphere in the hopes of inspiration. Tony can hear yelling and explosions in the distance – the blast range getting a workout – but otherwise it’s nice and peaceful.

“ _Do_ you want a better pair of boobs?” Jan asks. “Because that’s information I would take seriously, if so.”

“Nah.” Tony leans back, arms folded under his head as he lies down. “Sometimes I just admire you, is all.”

“A natural reaction.” Jan grins, teasing and wonderful, and not for the first time Tony is grateful as hell that she joined the Academy not long after he did. If Steve had already been around when Jan enrolled, who knows what might’ve happened. “What are you really thinking about?”

“Just my ridiculous grudge against Steve Rogers,” Tony says.

“Oh please,” Jan says, studying her manicure. “You have the one grudge. _One._ I have four.”

Tony stares up at her. “Who’s number four?”

“Vanko,” Jan hisses.

“Come on, Vanko’s not that bad.”

Jan raises an eyebrow. “Do I judge you your hang-up with Steve? No. Return the favor.”

“But your grudges are…” Tony trails off.

Jan is a world away nicer than Tony in general, and she loves people passionately, enthusiastically. If there’s anyone who can rival Steve for Most Liked Student on Campus it’s definitely Jan, who subsists almost entirely on joy and bringing joy to other people. She may have more grudges, but she barely lets those grudges influence her zest for life.

“Reasonable,” Tony says at last.

“And not based on envy,” Jan adds.

Tony pokes her side. “Now that’s a lie. You’re totally jealous that Amora—”

“If you say one word about Enchantress looking better in my outfits than me, I will disown you,” Jan says primly. “And not invite you to the party I’m planning for this weekend.”

“Can you not invite Steve?” Tony asks. “I mean, since you’re obviously not going to invite Amora.”

“Are you kidding? Enchantress totally has to come to my party. Otherwise how else will she get to see how flawless my party-planning skills are? Plus I want to debut my new outfit – the one with the new stripes. Have I shown it to you yet? She’s going to puke from jealousy _._ ”

Tony laughs, and gamely props himself up so Jan can show him the new designs on her phone. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s why I admire you.”

Two days after their disastrous first meeting, Steve sought Tony out and apologized.

“I hope we can move past it,” Steve had said. “I think both of us said things we regret and it’s best to just wipe the slate clean, get a fresh start. Especially since we’ll be seeing a great deal of each other from now on.”

Tony could have let it drop. He could have accepted the olive branch and Steve’s outstretched hand, and maybe the rest of it would’ve gone differently. But Tony’s brain landed upon this: _he_ was the Academy’s pioneer student, not Steve. _He_ was the one Fury had tasked to show Steve around, and hadn’t even managed to complete that.

He should’ve sought Steve out to apologize first. But Steve had beaten him to it because that was the kind of person Steve was, alongside with his already being friendly and brave and annoyingly self-righteous. It made Tony feel tiny.

So Tony cheerfully shoved his foot back into his mouth and said, “Nah, I don’t regret anything.”

Steve double-taked and lowered his hand. “Oh.”

“Yep,” Tony said.

“Well, then, that’s…” Steve seemed at a genuine loss, and for a second Tony felt triumphant. But the moment passed when Steve squared his shoulders and said, “It doesn’t matter. I look forward to working with you, Tony.”

Steve smiled. Not a warm smile like those he gave his friends, but this one was still within the ballpark of genuine and unforced. It made Tony’s throat close up on the dozen or so immediate replies he could have given, be they sarcastic or dismissive or some bluster about how Tony was totally going to blow his mind.

“All right then,” Steve said. “I’m going.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, finally recovering, “go save some endangered bald vultures or something.”

Steve’s face twitched, but he said nothing else. Instead he just turned and walked away, and that was that.

Sometimes they work well together.

As the Academy gains in prestige, so does its list of enemies. Hydra School, A.I.M. Institute and the Cosmic Conservatory are among the many rival schools that pop up with a grand agenda of topping the Academy, so it’s up to them to face that head-on. Tony expected this to happen, so he’s both prepared and excited – both traits of which he’s surprised to find he has in common with Steve, just this once.

If the challenge is tech-heavy, Tony tends to lead. If it’s tactics-heavy, Steve steps to the front. If it’s a combo of both, or neither, or deep into complicated strategies that even Natasha can’t make heads or tails of, they spread it out, seeing who can and wants to rise to the challenge.

Tony’s pretty damn proud of what they accomplish, despite their student body’s newness and volatility. He can admit that a lot of this is due to Steve, who proves again and again that his leadership isn’t a fluke, even if he’s useless at taking suggestions sometimes ( _robots can do more than you_ think _, Steve_ ).

They fight together, sometimes. It’s in these battles that all the other bullshit falls away, leaving only a shared enemy and/or goal, and it’s a hell of a surprise by how much a difference that makes. By the fifth time they’re shoulder-to-shoulder in the same Avengers line-up they’re almost a well-oiled machine of terror, he and Steve taking the hard hits while others strike quick and efficient around them.

It’s Frost Giants this time, a whole group of them lumbering around the outer walls of campus and threatening to bring a permanent winter down on their heads. Loki is somewhere in the SHIELD building protesting his innocence, but for now Tony and Steve, plus Natasha, Wiccan and Hulk, handle the attack itself, pushing the Frost Giants back until Heimdall can get the Bifrost working again to send them home.

It’s a clean win. Everyone did their part, the whole is greater than the sum of those parts, and Tony has to take a few seconds hovering high above the ground to bask in the moment.

He does come down eventually, and helps right up a few fallen benches as the others gather themselves.

“Good work, everybody,” Steve says, looking as pleased as Tony feels.

“Everyone gets a gold star!” Tony mimes putting stickers on Wiccan and Natasha as they pass, the both of them slumped a little from exhaustion. “You get a star, and you get a star—”

“You get one, too, Tony,” Steve says.

“Aww,” Tony says. “We should hug.”

“No,” Steve says, smiling.

“That’s fair.” Tony flips the faceplate of his helmet up and points beyond Steve’s shoulder. “Better get back there before your friends hurt themselves.”

The other students are gathered just inside the school gates, which Pepper and Jan have been guarding since the start of the attack. Tony can make out Sam, Bucky, Sharon and Kamala near the front, cheering and hollering. Steve spots them, too, his face lighting up with pleasure. He peels off his helmet and sheepishly slinks towards the gates – Steve never struts after a battle, no matter how much curbstomping he’d done – where his friends and other students swallow him up.

Tony watches for a long moment, and then flips headplate back into place before flying off to the Tower.

The Academy was built on the remains of a timefog, which is at the very least spiritually responsible for a great deal of weirdness that exists on campus. There’s Wiccan and Scarlet Witch, mother and son who are now classmates and peers; there’s Peggy Carter, who looks not a day above seventeen and has muscled her way into Natasha’s clique of People Who Are Watching Your Every Move, Nick Fury; and there’s Nerd Bucky and Emo Bucky, two versions of the exact same person who are also now classmates and peers.

In the weeks after Steve’s arrival, Tony caught up with his file. Tony knows about the plane crash, Bucky’s then-seeming death, and how Steve fell into accidental suspended animation up until Fury found him. (For a dude out of time, Steve is doing extremely well, but maybe that’s helped by the fact that he’s no longer the only one in that situation. There’s enough of them now to start a band, even. They can call themselves the Untimelys.)

Nerd Bucky is a spritely, upbeat kid who was plucked out of the past into the present, much the same way that Peggy was. Emo Bucky actually belongs to _this_ time, in that he’s what happened when Nerd Bucky survived the plane crash and was modified by Hydra School’s unethical decades-long science project into the Winter Soldier.

The Academy’s a strange place.

Anyway. Steve takes to the fact that he has two versions of his bestest friend in the world with the same aplomb as he did the fact that he’d woken up in the future, which is to say: with grace, good cheer and only some mild confusion.

The rest of the student body is less sanguine about it, once Emo Bucky gets his hands on an electric guitar.

“Tony, Tony, Tony!” Riri flails, until Tony’s close enough and she can jab him repeatedly in the arm. “I’ve got a major project due tomorrow, please.”

“Do you actually?” Tony says.

“Yes!”

Tony looks out on the quad and sighs. There’s been no more curfew since nocturnal students started enrolling, so technically there’s nothing wrong with Emo Bucky setting up his amplifiers in the middle of the open space. There’s a small crowd gathered on the edges of the quad itself, which Tony has now joined, but no one’s making any move towards the Winter Soldier.

“Where’s Natasha?” Tony says.

“Who even knows.” Bruce thumbs through his phone. “Nothing on Jan’s feed, so that’s a dead end.”

“Can someone ping Steve?” Tony asks, while the gathering of students around him murmur among themselves. “Come on, work with me.”

“Steve’s on an away mission,” Scott Lang says. “Sorry, man.”

“Oh my god,” Tony groans.

The Winter Soldier is not bad at playing the guitar. In fact, he’s really good, and his music is emotional and cathartic and even made Maria Hill get teary that one time. But he only plays one particular type of music, and only at very specific volumes that he insists is necessary for his art. Fury and Pepper let him get away with it, because the quad is far, far away from the SHIELD building, and Emo Bucky somehow always knows whenever there’s staff nearby and thus should keep his equipment packed up.

It isn’t the worst reputation for the Winter Soldier to have, all things considered, but the students do like their sleep.

“I cannot believe this,” Tony mutters. “If any of you start recording, I’m going to leave. Understood?”

Scott and Kamala quietly put their phones away.

“Hey.” Tony edges forward. He glances around quickly, but there’s still no sign of Natasha or Steve. “Bucky.”

“One of them,” Emo Bucky says. He’s fiddling with the amplifier cables, and Tony notes that he’s put on extra eyeliner tonight, which does not bode well. “I have a song in my soul and it needs to be set free.”

“What happened to that studio gig we worked out last time? Remember, with the sound system and the playback? Didn’t you enjoy that?”

Emo Bucky pauses, his expression blank and mysterious. “There is beauty in music that is trapped. Captured. Pinned down like a butterfly. But other music needs to soar.”

“Can it soar in the daytime?” Tony asks. “I can arrange for better speakers.”

“No, it needs to be free now.” Emo Bucky picks up his guitar. “Unless.”

Tony leans forward eagerly. “Unless?”

“The reason I need this song to fly is because it’s not fully formed yet.” Emo Bucky looks dismayed, though that might just be the eyeshadow. “That may be the only way to complete it, unless I have help.”

“I’ll help,” Tony says quickly. “I’m great at music. Amazing. Don’t believe whatever Quill says.”

They shoo away the rest of the spectators. Or at least, Tony does the shooing while Emo Bucky stops setting up his equipment. In no time the area is cleared out, and Tony joins Emo Bucky in sitting on his speaker cases. Tony schools his expression into a decent attempt at supportive, and tries to recall his piano lessons of his childhood.

“This song is not wholly mine,” Emo Bucky says, his voice low. “The music shall be, but the lyrics are not.”

“A commission?”

“A collaboration,” Emo Bucky says. “Steve wrote a story in verse, of the sweetheart he wishes would be his but they won’t give him the time of day. A tragedy.”

“Oh my god.” Tony resists asking if Steve’s scenario involves scandalous hand-holding. “All right. So he’s done the lyrics and you’re doing the music to go with it?”

“It’s about a dude,” Emo Bucky says.

Tony starts. “Oh.”

“A handsome, intelligent dude. Who’s mostly cool, and wealthy to boot.” Emo Bucky intones all of this as though reading from a top secret list, which he ends with a long pause as though expecting a reaction other than Tony’s wide-eyed waiting on tenterhooks. “Whose name starts with a T.”

Tony gasps. “T’Challa.”

Emo Bucky swivels his head, like an ancient statue perturbed out of its perfect posture to pin Tony with a stare. “No.”

“Actually, T’Challa’s a really good catch, have you seen him without his shirt—”

“Tony.”

“What?”

“That’s his name,” Emo Bucky says. “Your name. Steve’s would-be sweetheart.”

Tony stares. “What?”

That’s English. He should understand it, and he does understand the individual words yet there is no cohesive whole that makes sense in the universe that Tony knows himself to exist in. Steve? Steve _Rogers?_ The only thing that Steve has ever wished of him is for Tony to stoop to Steve’s level of taking everything in the world as seriously as he does at all times, no exceptions. Steve freaking Rogers does the bare minimum of recognizing that Tony even _exists_.

And yet. The Winter Soldier may have unusual speech patterns and a frighteningly one-track mind, but he doesn’t lie.

When Tony opens his mouth, he can only manage a wordless garble of confusion.

“That’s it.” Emo Bucky pulls out a notebook, flipping to a fresh page where he starts writing. “That’s perfect. I can work on this. Thank you, Tony.”

“I… You’re welcome?” Tony wants to say more but the Winter Soldier has mentally disengaged, working hard on his notebook and tapping along to a tune playing in his head.

That leaves Tony to process all by himself.


	3. Let's Get Serious

It’s impossible, of course. Laughable. They’re not even friends, they’re just semi-functional teammates slash schoolmates who barely know and for the most part just tolerate each other. Sure, people develop crushes on people they barely know all the time, but that’s normal people, not people like Steve Rogers.

Obviously the Winter Soldier made a mistake somewhere. He misunderstood something his best friend in the whole wide world said, and relayed that information forward without being aware of the consequences on both the subject and the object of said information.

Tony decides that this must be true. He even believes it in spurts of two to three minutes at a time, after which he spirals once more into doubt and bewilderment.

It’s not a good mindset to be in when there’s classes to attend, enemies to fight and teachers to impress, but apparently Tony’s reputation for flakiness is so well-established by now that almost no one notices anything different about him in the days that follow Emo Bucky’s bomb.

This, at least, enables Tony to watch Steve closely whenever he can. It’s been a curse of the campus that their paths cross regularly, but now this is a kinda-positive thing, in that Tony can observe Steve surreptitiously – in the library, during classes, whenever – in the hopes of catching some evidence one way or another on the madness of the Winter Soldier’s statement.

Tony wears his shades for a couple of days for this purpose, which works up until the day when he’s lounging by the hot dog stand pretending that he’s not watching Steve and his friends do laps on the stadium track. Steve’s in a group of six, with Emo Bucky trailing at the back, and during one of the laps said Emo Bucky turns sharply, looking right at Tony, one metal finger raised in a subtle maybe-threat.

“ _Jesus_.” Tony jumps and almost drops his hot dog. “I got it, I got it.”

Emo Bucky turns to face the front and keeps jogging, while Steve and the others are none the wiser.

“Fine,” Tony says, pocketing his shades. So far it’s a bust: Steve always goes to classes on time, gets along with almost everyone, and likes to stand with his hands on his hips whenever he’s making a speech. Big whoop.

Even if it’s true – and that’s a _big_ if – it doesn’t actually matter in the greater scheme of things.

Steve is Steve, who’s done nothing but irritate Tony with his existence from day one, and this is just another point in the great big list of reasons for that irritation. Actually, once Tony thinks about it, it might not even merit a position on the list at all, because it’s so irrelevant to everything that made him irritating to Tony in the first place.

It’s just a trait that’s neutral, neither good nor bad, like Steve’s tendency to wear shirts with stars printed on them. It’s like, that’s a thing, but so what? It does not inform anything of Steve’s actual personality, which is where his true defects are.

If there’s an angle of concern to this, it should be along the lines of why _hadn’t_ it informed Steve’s behavior around Tony. If it were true, there should’ve been some hint somewhere, some chink in the Dudley Do Right armor that Steve wears around himself. Even if Tony hadn’t noticed anything at the time, he should be able to pick up the details after the fact.

Tony’s a scientist. He likes to make sense of things, inasmuch as he can.

He considers the fact that Steve dated Tigra for a while. Tony remembers when that first took off, because _of course_ Captain Perfect would date a literal model. He’d kinda assumed that they were still a thing, but now he realizes that he hasn’t seen them together lately. If Tony missed that breaking up, maybe he’d missed other things?

But ultimately none of that matters either way, because it all comes back to the great big _if_ , and the great big impossibility of that if.

For tacked on to the end of that _if_ is another impossible question: _why_?

Jan corners Tony in his workshop one day, holding her phone out as she dramatically sets it on silent, which is how Tony knows she means business.

“What’s up with you?” Jan says. “You’ve been extra weird and I’ve waited long enough for you to tell me what’s going on. Should I be hurt that you haven’t told me yet?”

“Definitely not,” Tony promises.

“Okay, good.” Jan perches herself on the closest bench, and pulls out a batch of miniaturized bagels from her purse that she restores to full size. “You will eat, and you will tell me if this is about Thor.”

“No, it’s not about Thor. I am a hundred percent happy for you two.”

Jan squints at him. “That better be sincerity, or I’m going to be upset.”

“It is.” Tony bites into the bagel. “I swear on your baked goods.”

“You can touch his abs if you want,” Jan says. “He’s totally fine with his friends doing that.”

“I don’t need to… Really?” Tony shakes the mental image from his head. “Wait, no. I don’t need to touch his abs.”

“They’re really awesome abs.”

“I—no, Jan!” Tony laughs, Jan shoves at him playfully, and they get crumbs all over the workbench. “A few days ago I found out that someone might have… I don’t know what to call it. A crush? On me.”

“This isn’t Galina, is it? Because that’s not a crush. She will _physically_ crush you.”

“It’s not Galina, give me some credit.” Tony drums his fingers on the bench, realizing that as strange as it already sounds in his head, it will sound even stranger to speak it out loud. “It’s someone else. The thing is, it’s so… It can’t be real. I know that I have to at least consider the possibility that it _might_ be real, but I can’t. I don’t see how.”

“Why not? You’re lovely.” Jan says that matter-of-factly, as if it really is so simple. Tony loves her so much for it.

“That may be true,” Tony says, “but it’s a controversial stance to take, in some circles.”

“In some circles…” Jan echoes thoughtfully. “Oh my god, don’t tell me it’s Amora.”

“What? No!”

“Vanko?” Jan says worriedly.

“Steve,” Tony blurts out. “I was told that it’s Steve.”

Tony registers just then that his heart’s hammering pretty hard. Jan tilts her head, thoughtful, while Tony realizes just how important Jan’s reaction will be here. Jan is one of the biggest busybodies on campus; she knows everyone better than Tony does, and she knows _Tony_ damn well on top of that. It’s here that Tony will know how far to take it seriously, if at all.

“The person who told you,” Jan says. “Was it someone who knows Steve well?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Oh, I forgot.” Jan takes another bite of the bagel she’d been working on. “And I swear all of this to secrecy, in the name of this baked good.”

“It’s crazy, though, isn’t it?” Tony presses. “Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know Steve that well, to be honest.” Jan makes a face, as though this shortcoming has personally offended her. “He’s kind of hard to read. I mean, he’s good at inspiring people and throwing his motorcycle into trees, but that doesn’t tell you anything useful. It’s why I asked if you found out from someone who does know him well.”

“You know more than I do,” Tony says.

“Then you gotta find out.” Jan takes out her phone and taps at it “He’ll be at the club after class today.”

“How does that help me?”

“How does sitting here banging out your issues on that poor alternator help you? Go to the club. Make like Natasha and get people to squeal.” Jan gasps and sits up sharply. “Wardrobe change. I shall pick out your clothes. Come!”

“What? Jan!”

  


Tony goes to the club.

He wears four of five things that Jan picked out for him, because she’s a fashion genius and knows better than Tony does where the line is between Casual and Try Hard, but he draws his own line at Wasp socks for good luck. Even so, casual clothing armor does little to calm Tony’s nerves, especially when he arrives to the sight of Steve and his pals already partaking of food and drink at one of the club’s tables.

There’s no way in hell that Tony will barge into that, so he heads over to the dance floor. Only Loki and Hulk are there, both of them making as if they just happen to be dancing at the same time and have nothing else whatsoever to do with the other.

“Hey, big green,” Tony says. “Little green.”

“Tony join for cardio!” Hulk says happily, while Loki just sneers.

They dance. Well, Loki and Hulk ‘dance’, while Tony shuffles around on his feet and admires how damn hardy they’d made the floor so it can stand Hulk’s enthusiastic jumps. It’s not Tony’s usual music – the beats are too on point, too predictable – but there’s charm in it. It even has the other people in the club bopping along; Tony can see the top of Steve’s head move with it, over in the thick of his little gathering.

Maybe Tony should have asked Jan for more pointers. The distance between here and that table of raucous laughter seems insurmountable, even by Bifrost.

Just when Tony starts to think this may be pointless, Steve joins the dance floor.

No preamble, no posturing. Steve just steps up onto an unused corner of the dance squares, tosses a salute up at DJ Vision, and starts dancing.

Tony figures it’s acceptable to acknowledge the guy, so he turns a little, glancing up and down. Steve’s left his jacket back at the table and is down to his dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his shapely elbows.

“Again with the Charleston,” Tony says.

Steve jolts a little, having not expected Tony to speak. “It’s a classic.”

Loki laughs. “A classic snore.”

Steve ignores Loki, which is usually the best course of action. He dances his weird little twist steps, front and back and front and back, his arms out. It’s ridiculous, as it’s always been ridiculous, but Tony’s never taken the opportunity to fully observe the motion up close. Steve’s feet never lose their rhythm, despite that rhythm often having very little to do with the actual music that’s playing.

Tony slows his dancing and comes to a stop. He tilts his head, eyes still on Steve’s feet, and mentally slots numbers and angles into a haphazard mathematical formula. Once that’s in place, he starts moving again.

Slowly, because there’s no point in falling flat on his face.

After a few steps, Tony hears a faint noise beyond his shoulder. It’s Steve’s laugh, soft and surprised. Tony resists the temptation to turn and put a face to the sound, and instead focuses on his own feet.

“That is a new low, Steel Fellow,” Loki says. “You must be so proud.”

“Not as proud as your mom,” Tony barks. “Hey, Frigga!”

“Hello, boys,” Frigga says, from her vantage point atop her bilgesnipe. The creature’s lumbering stride takes her past the club on her sunset stroll. “All’s well this fine evening, yes?”

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Asgard,” Hulk says.

Tony doesn’t fall on his feet, but he does trip a little, especially when changing direction. The second time he does it, he registers Steve’s approach to his right, his steps slowed down to match Tony’s.

“That’s not bad,” Steve says. “Just a little stiff.”

“Stiff and slow,” Tony says. “Could be the title of my memoir.”

“Ah, an ironic title. You don’t need to turn your heel so much, that can be dangerous.” Steve hums an approval when Tony fixes his step. “Usually you join the rave downstairs.”

Tony promptly files the info that Steve knows his club preferences. “Yeah. Just felt like a change of scenery.”

With Steve shadowing him like this, it almost feels like they’re in the middle of one of their team battles, where there’s just the motion and the goal. They’re not in sync, but it’s a decent approximation of it, and it’s more the effort that counts instead of the final result. Tony’s face feels warm, which he attributes to the Charleston being more strenuous than it looks. It even takes him a few useless seconds to remember why he’s even here, because he actually does have an agenda, dagnabit.

“So hey,” Tony says, trying and failing to find a smooth segue, “you mind if I ask something, Cap?”

“Go ahead,” Steve says.

“You and Tigra still a thing?” Tony’s still keeping his eyes mostly floor-directed for safety’s sake, but he can sense the surprise emanating off of Steve.

“Uh, no. I don’t think we ever were a thing? We just had the two, um…” Steve’s voice wavers, like he’d fallen out of step for a second. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, you know. Curious.”

“Why curious?”

“Just ‘cause.”

They dance quietly for a while, which gives Tony a minute or so to unhook the tension in his shoulders. Across the floor, Loki does him a solid by getting bored and wandering away, making that one less environmental factor to worry about. Doreen takes up his spot, but she’s doing her own thing, chattering away with her squirrels.

Perhaps Tony should consider that singular piece of information from Steve the win of the night. At least he now knows that Steve and Tigra aren’t together. Maybe if he works real hard, in a few days he can find out if Steve’s actually single.

“Okay, I think I’m done.” Tony comes out of the dance with a spin on one heel. “Nice seeing you, Cap, Hulk. Hey Doreen, you’re looking good.”

“Gotta give ‘em a show!” Doreen says.

Tony pats himself down as he walks away, checking that Loki didn’t steal his phone while he wasn’t paying attention. He’s a couple of steps out of the club when he realizes that someone’s followed him. Not only that, it’s _Steve_ who’s following him.

He doesn’t yelp, but it’s close. “Did I leave something?”

“No, it’s…” Steve glances over his shoulder, as though to make sure that no one can overhear. “I am sorry about Pepper, but I don’t think it’s good idea with Tigra.”

Tony frowns. “Uh, what?”

“I’m not hung up over her or anything like that,” Steve says quickly. “She’s great, really she is. But I think she has someone else on her mind right now, so I thought I should warn you about that.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Didn’t you…” Steve studies Tony’s face. “I thought you were sad about Pepper. That she got together with Matt?”

“Whoa, not cool.” Tony takes his turn to check their surroundings, noting the lack of any sharp-dressed redhead and red-dressed ninjas. “Pepper can handle Elektra, no problem. How can you even doubt that?”

Steve blinks slowly. “I’m going to start again.”

“Maybe you should,” Tony suggests.

“I thought you asked if I was still seeing Tigra because you’re sad that Pepper’s no longer available, and you wanted to try your luck with her.”

“Oh. Oh my god, no! Tigra’s great, she’s amazing, but it’s nothing to do with – no. And why would I be sad about Pepper? Matt’s awesome. Sure, he’s a weirdo who keeps trying to convince people he’s not Daredevil, plus there’s that unpredictable ex thing, but that’s all minor, plus Pepper is more than capable of handling anything anyone throws her way.” Tony pauses, thinking. “Maybe I should ask them if they want couples armor upgrades.”

Bemusement is etched deep in Steve’s face. “Sometimes I don’t understand you.”

“Only sometimes? Pfft.” Tony makes as though to leave but inspiration bursts forth, buoyed on the momentum of the moment. “ _You’re_ not seeing anyone right now, though?”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Why do you want to know that?”

“Just curious.”

“No,” Steve says. “There’s no one, right now.”

“Gotcha.” Tony mentally checks off a box in his head, and does not whoop out loud. “Night, Cap.”

It’s not _efficient_ intel-gathering, but it’s better than nothing. Under normal circumstances Tony would entrust JARVIS with collecting the data and cross-referencing the interesting bits, but these circumstances are not normal, and at the moment the only really secure data storage location is the inside of Tony’s head.

Sit back, observe, collate.

Tony does this during the next student council meeting. The council has expanded some, and with the extra invitees included for the sessions, the Avengers Hall is almost packed to limit. Steve, of course, still takes his position up front, gesturing with a laser pointer (ha!) at the holographic map showing critical control points all over campus.

“Your proposal?” Steve says.

“It is traditional for our embassies to face west,” T’Challa says, “but we’re given to understand that that sector has been marked for the new launchpads.”

“It is our right to have the west quadrant,” Erik says.

“ _Now_ you want the west quadrant?” Shuri says, making a face at Erik. “You wanted to be off-campus five minutes ago.”

“It is our right to change our minds, too,” Erik says.

The argument proceeds, though Tony is only half-listening. He’s sitting near the back of the room, his feet up on the handrest of the chair next to him, a portion of his brainpower expended on counting the number of times Steve gets short on people when they sass and/or are rude to him.

Surprisingly, Tony’s still stuck on zero.

On the one hand, this isn’t that much of a surprise because even Tony’s managed to absorb Steve’s school reputation for implacable cool-headedness, especially in leading and mediating. On the other hand, what the _hell_ , is it just Tony who manages to get a rise out of him? Loki might find it flattering to be the subject of that kind of behavior – scratch that, he’d _definitely_ find it flattering – but even when Tony tries to imagine that it’s a symptom of Steve’s having a crush on him, it doesn’t fit.

Not for a guy like Steve, anyway.

“T’Challa will take the lead on the renovations,” Steve says at last. He manages to sound authoritative and deferential at the same time, which is one hell of a skill to have. “We will provide assistance where required, and only when required.”

“Wakanda accepts,” T’Challa says.

Steve lifts his head up. “Does anyone have anything to add?”

Tony mentally puts a big honkin’ check in the Disproves Theory column. At least he’s amassing more checks there, though who knows how many he’ll need so he can forget this whole ludicrous business.

He realizes that the room is silent, and quite a few people are looking his way expectantly, Steve included.

“Nope,” Tony says loudly. “Everything sounds good. I like your pre-fab idea, it’ll give a chance to spruce up the grounds.”

Steve pauses, corners of his eyes tightening in what looks like suspicion. “Really?”

“Always worthwhile to double-check the foundations,” Tony says. “It’s not like there’s a rush.”

“Then… I call to close this matter.” Steve waits, but no one else adds anything. “Secretary?”

Soon enough the meeting’s adjourned. Tony sweeps his phone into his jacket and stands up, rolling his shoulders. Fellow students mill about around him in a mass of noise and chatter, but Tony’s mostly lost in his own thoughts, and ruing the day that Emo Bucky ever enrolled here.

As Tony turns to leave, it’s by chance that he moves his head in the direction he does and thus sees what he does. What he sees is Steve, standing tall and still at the opposite end of the room, looking straight at Tony.

Tony keeps moving, pretending he doesn’t notice. Unfortunately, this means that he gets little clarity of the expression on Steve’s face.

Tony steps outside the building and mutters, “This is bullshit.”

It’s because of the idiot that is Emo Bucky and his equally idiotic best friend that Tony finds himself doing all sorts of things that otherwise wouldn’t have wasted his time even _thinking_ about.

He attends a football game, a friendly with a visiting school of sharp purple uniforms. Officially, he’s there to support the Academy’s favorite terrifying linebacker (Janet). Unofficially, he’s there to watch Steve at semi-competitive play, which as far as Tony can tell means that Steve takes breaks in between mauling the other team to laugh and joke around with his teammates.

Tony sits with Rhodey for most of the game, feeling sheepish and out-of-place despite Rhodey’s attempts to keep him engaged.

“We should do mecha-football,” Rhodey says. “Everyone wears a suit. Except Hulk, who can play as himself.”

“Fury would pop a head vein.” Tony winces as the next play starts. “I’ll need two, let’s say three weeks to build a stadium. One if Rocket helps.”

“If?” Rhodey laughs. “I’d be surprised if Rocket doesn’t already have plans doodled around somewhere.”

The game is very much not his thing, but Steve seems to be enjoying himself. Jan is _definitely_ enjoying herself, but Tony’s familiar with what Jan’s like when she’s in her element. Steve is far more restrained, yet just as genuine, though he expresses it differently. It’s strange to think of Steve as someone who feels highs (and, presumably, lows) like regular people, when most of the time he seems just so above it all.

Okay, that’s unfair. Steve may be so straight-laced that even Nick Fury doesn’t know what to do with him sometimes, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t entitled to have ups and downs just like everyone else. He must have his petty concerns and petty thrills, too – it can’t be all Training and Missions and Doing Good Things for Benefit of the World all the time.

Tony’s startled from his thoughts when the audience around them roars to life. Rhodey jumps to his feet, so Tony does, too, asking, “Was there a score? Are we winning?”

“Nah, collision,” Rhodey says. “Not Jan this time.”

The gaming portion seems to have stopped for the moment. People are yelling, and a couple of players are on the ground. Tony does a quick sweep, noting that Jan is over at the bench ordering people around. But there – that guy who’s slowly standing up, propped up by two of their players on either side – that’s Steve.

Tony watches, throat tight, as Nerd Bucky helps pull Steve’s helmet off. Steve’s hair is damp and plastered to his head, and there’s a bright red streak of blood gushing from his nose and left eye. Steve urges Nerd Bucky away, one hand on his nose and the other pointing at the other players still being helped up.

“You know what, I’m gonna go,” Tony says. “I left my shirt in the oven.”

“Gotta make sure JARVIS didn’t burn the Tower down?” Rhodey says.

“Yep, exactly.”

Tony picks his way around Rhodey and down the stretch of seats, ducking out of the way of flailing arms and shouting. At the end of the row he turns back to the field one more time, his eye drawn with unerring accuracy to where a medibot is checking Steve’s ribs.

It occurs to Tony that he could hack the medibot server, which wouldn’t even really count as hacking because he set up most of it anyway. But as he thinks that, he wonders what on earth he’d be doing that for, beyond being mildly curious about what’s going on down there on the field. And even if he is that curious, he could just go down there and see what’s what.

Tony’s not very good at managing his impulsiveness.

He descends the stairs and makes a turn inward instead of outward. No one stops him, and in no time he finds himself back in sunlight, grass under his feet and sweaty people all around him. He’s barely noticed, really, and makes it all the way up to their team’s bench where Ares is doing his version of a pep talk with various team members, while a handful of medibots are scurry around.

Tony pokes at the closest bot, which stands up and opens its display. A quick tap brings up a list of the team’s injuries, and Tony decides then and there that no gets to judge him what he gets up to in his workshop ever again. With a sigh, Tony pulls up the treatment and recovery protocols, and moves some things around for efficiency and quicker response time.

There’s a roar somewhere to Tony’s left, presumably of the game gearing up for a restart. There’s a shuffle of footsteps even closer by Tony’s left, their owner recognizable from their stance alone.

“What are you doing here?” Steve says. “You never come to our games.”

“That is a damned dirty lie,” Tony says promptly.

“All right, except for the big final against A.I.M. where you set off the fireworks two minutes before we were going to win and caused the big—”

“Ancient history,” Tony says airily. Steve’s mouth flattens into an unimpressed line, which is only marginally less effective than if he crossed his arms. Tony says, “I came because of a cheerleader.”

“Really?” Steve says. “Who?”

“Uh.” Crap. The only cheerleaders Tony can remember are Tigra, whom he definitely can’t namecheck, and Sam, who would be just as weird. “Actually I came to support Jan.”

“This isn’t her first game,” Steve says.

“Oh my god, what’s with the third degree? It’s a free school, I can be here if I want.” Tony quickly taps a button on the medibot, who brings out a fresh hand towel that Tony thrusts at Steve. “Put that on your face.”

Steve looks at the towel. “What?”

“You’re still bleeding, genius.” Tony rolls his eyes and puts the towel at Steve’s forehead. Steve’s gone stock still, and slowly brings a hand up to press on the towel, allowing Tony to let go. “I just felt like tinkering around with the bots. Ignore me.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t you have a game to play?” Tony turns away, poking at the bot closest to him, only to realize that that he doesn’t actually have that much else to do with it. He also realizes that if Steve really does have a thing for him (though not likely) he might’ve just been unnecessarily sharp. Just because Tony doesn’t like Steve doesn’t mean he has to put the guy down.

“Hey,” Tony says – Steve’s only just started walking away, but he turns back. “Sorry. I don’t really get the game, but you seem to be doing… fine?”

Steve’s mouth quirks. “Yes, we’re doing fine.”

“Yeah, so. Good job, I guess?”

“Thanks.” Steve seems to take that at face value and nods. “Good job with the bots, too.”

“What? Oh, sure, that’s what I do.” Tony watches Steve jog off, and does not let his gaze drop lower than Steve’s belt.

Tony may not believe Emo Bucky’s story about Steve’s sweetheart song, but there’s definitely something funny going on. Tony feels restless, twitchy; like there’s an idea for new tech flitting around his neurons but has yet to take proper shape.

Flying around campus usually helps. It helped more in the early days, before it got so freaking crowded that they had to set up air traffic control, but it’s still good. Tony flies with his stripped-down repulsor rig, carving out his own space in loops and turns, wind whipping his hair.

He lands on the south east side, in the heart of the training sector. The area’s a little quieter at this time of day – everyone prefers to get their heavy training done in the cooler mornings or evenings – so there’s barely anyone around as Tony walks up to the obstacle course.

This mini-block was installed not long after Peggy Carter showed up. Tony wasn’t involved with that, but he knows that it was designed to look old-fashioned at first glance. The lasers in the later portion of the course break that illusion, of course, but that’s also a deliberate part of its design.

The course itself is empty save for Carol, who’s finishing up by hauling herself over the rings. A twist, a flip, and she lands in a flawless roll forward.

“You can _fly_ ,” Tony says, while Carol picks up her water bottle and towel. “You can bench press _Korg_.”

“And you can shut your yap, but I don’t see you limiting yourself.” Carol flicks the towel in Tony’s direction before draping it over her shoulders. “Show’s over.”

“Is it a show when you’re not wearing the tights? _Is_ it? We miss the tights, Cap.”

Carol laughs as she rises into the air. “See you around, Tony. Steve.”

Tony yelps and whips his head around. Sure enough Steve’s standing just a few feet behind him, arms crossed and brow set in the familiar non-frown of unreadable scrutiny. Tony realizes he’s clutching at his chest, and carefully peels his fingers away.

“How are you so quiet?” Tony says.

“Picked it up from Nat.” Steve approaches, and Tony relaxes when Steve unfolds his arms, letting them drop into the more casual rest of thumbs in his belt. “Why do you say such things? You know Carol has mixed feelings about her old costume.”

“Janet says I have difficulty relating to people, so I say whatever pops into my mind because it makes me feel like I’m in control of the situation,” Tony says. “But she likes squid on pizza, so what does she know.”

“Squid on pizza’s pretty good,” Steve says.

“Ugh. I rest my case.” Tony has a prickly sensation at the back of his neck, as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. He doesn’t mind the getting caught part, except he hasn’t actually _done_ anything to merit that feeling in the first place. Maybe that’s just the effect Steve has on people. Or just on Tony, which would be his luck.

Steve doesn’t seem mad though. Just, oddly enough, curious. “You’ve never run the course, have you?” Steve asks.

“Why would I?”

Steve smiles. “Can you? Without your tech?”

“Ugh.” Tony considers the course and Steve’s upraised eyebrow. This is unlikely to end well, but he crouches down to unlock his boots, thanking his lucky stars that he’d worn sneakers inside today. “Ugh.”

“Come on,” Steve says. “We’ll just do the wall.”

Steve leads the way into the course, ignoring the main route for the first climbing wall. There are three different walls over the course but Steve’s picked the one that’s only slightly convex, and has obvious grips for holding on to. Tony is intrigued despite himself, and lifts his arms for Steve to install the harness on him.

Steve doesn’t need rope, obviously. He just pats his hands on his jeans twice, drying his palms, and starts climbing.

If there’s any fear of Tony being distracted by the flex of back and butt and thighs going on an arm’s length away, it’s thoroughly quashed by the effort of actually climbing a rock wall. Tony’s in decent shape; he has to be, in order to fly the suits. But he’s not known for non-enhanced physical strength the way that Natasha and Melinda are, so he’s heaving for breath not even halfway up the wall.

Steve swings down from his route to check on Tony. He’s hanging one-handed from a single grip. “Just a little more.”

“No.” Tony curls his leg and settles his foot in another grip. “I hate this.”

“You’re doing really well.”

“You’re such a fucking liar, Rogers.”

“Wow, language,” Steve says, though there’s a smile in his words.

Tony ascends in what feels like inch by straining inch. Steve talks as he does, providing a steady stream of encouragement and helpful descriptions of where Tony is and needs to move next. At some point Steve scuttles down the wall, taking up a spot just by Tony’s shoulder, letting Tony set the pace.

Nearing the top, Steve sprints ahead, hauling himself over first. When Tony reaches up, Steve grabs hold of his forearm, pulling him over with infuriating ease. It probably counts as cheating, but Tony’s grateful to be able to sit down and rest his glutes.

“Oh,” Tony says, registering the view of the campus stretched out around them. “This is pretty high.”

“Nowhere near as high as the Tower, but it’s a pretty sweet lookout.” Steve settles next to him, both of their legs dangling over the edge.

“I guess.” Tony reaches behind himself to check that his harness is tethered properly, only to find that Steve is already holding on to the rope. “I feel like I should be wearing lederhosen.”

“Do you have some lying around your wardrobe?”

“Nah. I could ask Jan to whip something up, but she’d make the shorts extra tight just because.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “The perils of having a fashion-priority friend?”

“Have you met me?” Tony says. “We’re both fashion hoes. Why do you think we’re best friends?”

“Superheroes who dress up together stay together?”

“Pretty much.” Tony can see almost see beyond the south wall from here. The timefog is a boring ‘ol gray blur over on the right, but straight on is the waterfront, and the top of the Raft. The Tower may be higher up, but from there the eye doesn’t catch the water quite the same way. It must be really striking at sunset. “You enjoy sitting up here?” Tony asks.

“Sometimes,” Steve says.

“That why you had the course made?”

“I didn’t _have_ it made.”

“Yeah, you did. Geez, Steve, just own up that you use your power for personal gain sometimes.”

“I resent the implication.” Steve says this with an honest-to-goodness twinkle in his eye. “This course benefits everyone in the school.”

“Right.” It’s just then that Tony notices movement down below, where someone is standing just outside the course. “I see you, Kamala!”

Kamala, perfectly shameless, lifts up her phone to snap a picture. “Hi, Tony! Steve!” She’s smiling broadly, and responds to Tony’s furious pointing by waving.

“If you ‘shop that in any way I’m going to tell Sam!” Tony shouts.

“Sam?” Steve says, while Kamala trots away. “Why Sam?”

“They’ve been flirting,” Tony says. “My threats are efficient.”

“Sam, really? He mentioned there might be someone, but he was tight-lipped about who.”

“Probably in the hopes of keeping you away from his would-be girl.”

“Hey,” Steve says good-naturedly.

“You are kinda dangerous,” Tony says.

“Not in _that_ way,” Steve says, ears going pink. “That’s – no.”

It’s at this point that Tony realizes that this is the stupidest thing he could have done today. Up here there’s just the two of them; there are no props for Tony to hide behind or keep his hands busy. There’s just Steve, looking like he’s sitting for a photo shoot with his fresh skin and bright eyes and fair hair that’s in dire need of petting. For safety reasons, Tony puts his hands under his butt, keeping them flat and unable to do anything but be sat on.

“My calves hurt.” Tony shakes his ankles in the air. “Every day is technically leg day for me, and my calves hurt. What is this bullshit. Oh—”

Steve does thing – a fluid movement, not unlike the moves Tony’s witnessed in battle – where he keeps one foot hooked on the edge of the wall surface while he flings the rest of himself out, hand outstretched to catch Tony’s shoe before it makes the rest of the journey down. Tony watches, stomach tight, as Steve returns to his sitting spot and holds the shoe out.

Tony takes the shoe, considers it for a long moment, and tosses it over. It falls the long way down, and lands on the ground with an anti-climactic little smack _._

Steve sighs. “You won’t even let me do that?”

“I know I’m supposed to be impressed.” Tony can feel his hackles rising, despite this being the one time he wishes it wouldn’t. “Oh wow, Steve is so _brave_ , so _fast_.”

“That’s not—”

“Oh wow,” Tony says, working up his steam, “Steve jumped off a plane with no parachute, he faced a tank with his bare hands! He’s so strong, he doesn’t care about safety, what a guy!”

“Says the fella who blows up his lab every other day,” Steve says sharply.

“That’s different!”

“How?” Steve gets in his face, jaw a hard line. “How is it different?”

“It’s different because I’m careless!” Tony snaps. “I’m thinking about the project, the science – so I forget about myself. But you… you don’t forget like that. You know exactly what you’re doing every time you put yourself out there. You know what’ll happen, you know what it’ll do to you, and you want it anyway. That’s – that’s upsetting, all right?”

Tony’s kinda sorry when he gets to the end of that little rant, because all that’s left once he’s done is a void of awkwardness. Steve’s still right there in his face, too, his eyes never leaving Tony’s, but there’s something flickering in those blues, beneath the brow that’s no longer frowning.

“Sorry,” Tony manages at last. “Forget I said anything.”

“Why?” Steve says, quieter now.

“Look, I just want to…” Tony takes his hands out and crawls over to the other side of the wall. The harness is still holding, but when he tugs the rope, it doesn’t turn over properly. “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know how to get down.”

“It’s much easier than coming up, I’ll show you.” When Steve crawls over to join Tony, he smiles, and the sight of it is like the goddamned sun rising – stunning and warm. Tony hates it, and him, and Emo Bucky, and this obstacle course.

Unfortunately, Tony needs to stop hating Steve long enough for Steve to help him rappel down the wall.

“Thanks,” Tony says, once he has both shoes and rocket boots back on. “I’m gonna go now.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “Of course. Yes.”

It occurs to Tony, after the fact, that if Steve really does have a crush on him, then he just handed the guy a whole plate of material for crush fermentation. Which was not at all Tony’s intention, but mistakes are mistakes. Mea culpa.

The worst part isn’t even the possibility that boring mister perfect might have feelings for him. The worst part is that there’s a teeny, tiny corner of Tony’s brain that thinks that it would actually be nice if it were true. Like, genuinely nice, no sarcasm. And not even with the caveat of having to ignore all parts of Steve that are annoying as hell.

Because Steve _is_ still annoying as hell.

But the thing is, there are other aspects to him as well. Tony’s known this in a vague sort of way, because Jan, Sam, and T’Challa and a whole bunch of other people on campus are cool in their own right, and one must take that into account when acknowledging the fact that a great deal of them are Steve’s friends.

Tony had a glimpse of that, too, when he’d been with Steve up on the rock wall. Steve had been nice, patient, and kinda funny. Almost as if he didn’t mind Tony’s company.

Tony’s tempted to voice all of this to Jan, who may have something helpful to say. She’s been nice about it in general, despite Tony’s being a dweeb. (After her initial advice to find Steve at the club, she’d checked in with Tony a couple of times, curious but not pressing when Tony hadn’t much else to go on with. The most she said was, “If you ever get together, you must tell me first, because that hot scoop is _mine_.”) But Jan’s still sparkling with the newness of dating Thor, and Tony doesn’t feel like raining on that parade until those two have calmed down into a boring, established couple.

Anyway.

On one evening, which happens to be Jan and Thor’s three-week anniversary that they’re celebrating with a fashion show at the park, Tony is spending his time productively. He’s hiding at the back of Avengers Hall, typing away on his phone, while most of the student body is at the park enjoying the show and free food.

So focused is Tony on his work that, for the second time in a handful of days, Steve sneaks up on him.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, voice close by Tony’s shoulder.

This time, Tony saw Steve’s approaching shadow on the building, and so does not jump. “I’m not breaking into Fury’s vault, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I thought you’d be helping Jan with her show,” Steve says.

“I thought _you’d_ be helping her with her show.” When Steve seems lost, Tony adds, “Modelling her clothes.”

“Oh.” Steve straightens up a little, as though flattered by the idea. “You think I could do that?”

“Yeah, sure. She loves your shoulder to waist ratio.”

A pause. “What about you?”

Tony looks up from the glare of his phone, squinting. “What?”

“Do you have an opinion of my shoulder to waist ratio?” Steve asks.

“Yes, it makes me feel even more inadequate than I already do, and can you _please_ not stand there.” Tony grabs the lapel of Steve’s jacket, pulling him deeper into the lee of the building. “I don’t want to be seen.”

Steve doesn’t protest, and tucks himself up by Tony’s side as Tony flips through the latest commands. Steve makes a surprised sound when he sees campus footage on the screen, specifically of the Haunted Mansion, which is still in the midst of renovation for next Halloween.

“Loki and Amora are planning to sabotage the fashion show,” Tony says. “They got Ultron to help reprogram some of my zombie bots to crash the party.”

“What are you going to do?” Steve asks.

“I can’t just get in there with my counter commands, ‘cause Ultron will stop them as soon as he sees anything amiss. So I’m going to let them run, but I’m going to put a…” Tony trails off, rewording the explanation in his head for his audience. “I’m going to make the park invisible to the bots, and drop the matching signature on Loki and Amora, wherever they are. The problem is, I have to know exactly where they are once they set the bots off.”

“That makes sense,” Steve says. It occurs to Tony that Steve should be suggesting they tell Pepper, or one of the teachers, but Steve just says, “You don’t need to hide here. Loki and Amora are still at the Mansion.

“They could still head this way. Better to be safe.”

“No, come on.” Steve steps away from the building and does a quick sweep. “You watch your feeds, I’ll cover you.”

“I don’t... Okay, fine.”

Tony lets Steve drag him out of his little corner, which at least lets him relax his posture and pull up the holographic subwindows. He glances up once, but sure enough Steve’s on full alert, watchful and a hand held out to warn Tony if there’s any change in the immediate vicinity.

“Okay, they’ve released the bots.” Tony toggles between the cam footage. “Loki and Amora are… following the bots. Damn it.”

“Which side?” Steve asks.

“South along the Guardians sector. In a straight line for now.” Tony groans. “I thought they’d want a vantage point to watch the carnage. That’s what Loki usually goes for, right?”

“It’s okay. We’ll get our own vantage point.” Steve puts his hand on Tony’s back, nudging him forward. “You keep tracking, I’ll lead.”

Tony walks, guided by the pressure of Steve’s hand on his back or elbow, while working frantically through new subroutines. There are only about a dozen bots to worry about, but they’re moving far too quickly, scurrying over and under buildings in their path to the park. Loki and Amora, both of whom are dressed up in full Asgardian regalia for the occasion, are shadowing the bots closely, cackling as they do.

“They’re coming,” Steve says.

Tony raises his head. Steve’s brought him to the front of the study hall, where they can climb up the few steps and get a decent view of the south side. On the right, the first bots are climbing over the roof of Pym’s Lab, and on the left there’s the flashing lights and noise of the park in full party swing.

“Circle,” Tony says. “How about if I make them circle?”

“They’ll come this way,” Steve says. “That works.”

Tony keys it in, adjusting for a fake error to keep Ultron annoyed instead of suspicious. Steve talks quietly over him, describing the bots movements along with Loki and Amora’s confusion which, thank goodness, blossoms into an argument.

“Let’s crash ‘em,” Tony says gleefully. “Suck it, Ultron.”

The rumble of scrambling robots grows louder as they turn, easing off from their trajectory into a wide arc away from the park and doubling back. Tony plugs in a command and two bots split off entirely, one of them barreling right into a screaming Amora.

“Tony,” Steve says. “Loki’s spotted us.”

“Uh-oh,” Tony says.

“You will kneel, you peasants!” Loki yells. “You will know pain—”

Steve flings his shield, the quasi-weapon travelling almost perfectly vertical as it soars through the air and bumps off Loki’s head, sending his horned headdress flying.

“Oh shit!” Tony laughs.

Steve takes two steps sideways and jumps to catch the shield. As he’s doing that, Loki gets to his feet, his face visibly red even from a distance. Loki’s headdress may be gone but he’s still holding on to his scepter, which glows bright with summoned magic.

Tony moves without thinking, kicking his rocket boots active and darting forward. As Loki spins his scepter in readiness, Tony shoves his arms under Steve’s armpits from behind and pulls, the two of them taking off just as the spell rushes in their direction.

It’s a short flight, just around the building and back to take cover behind the dorms. Tony’s ancillary HUD confirms that there’s no other spells chasing them down, what with Loki now being preoccupied with the robots swarming all over him like the fan horde of his dreams.

Tony’s still laughing when they land, though the effort of carrying Steve means that said laugh is more of a wheeze.

“JARVIS,” Tony says, gasping, “please tell me you recorded Loki’s face when Steve booped him on the head.”

“ _Yes, indeed, sir_.” JARVIS helpfully displays the footage in a hover window. “ _Shall I upload it?_ ”

“No, not yet.” Tony checks his watch. “Let Jan and Thor’s party run a while.”

“Jan and Thor should decide what to do with it,” Steve says.

“Yesss, perfect. Send the footage to them in a lull, J. Let it be their call.”

“ _Very good_.”

Tony’s breathing hard but Steve has no such problem. Steve’s grinning at him with the grin of a job well-done, but in this Tony is happy to give him credit for it. It’s actually pretty funny how matter-of-fact Steve was about it – there’d been no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just an efficient, well-delivered serve. It’s kinda sexy.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use that on students in non-battle situations,” Tony says.

“Looked like a battle situation to me.” Steve shrugs, unapologetic. “Loki has a hard skull, anyway.”

“He does!” Tony realizes he still has a hand on Steve’s arm. They hadn’t moved much after they landed, which means that Steve’s pretty close, his broad chest well within touching distance. “He totally does.”

Steve’s grin slants a little, shifting it into a smirk. A subtle difference, but also a major one, because ho boy that means that Steve’s not so above it all, getting as much a petty kick out of Loki and Amora being thwarted as Tony does. It’s so hard to tell when Steve’s being earnest because he is, or when he’s being earnest as a front to whatever’s really going on his head.

Someone should say something. Or at least move. Tony’s aware of this but doesn’t feel like doing either, too distracted by the faint press of expectation that’s settled over them.

The leather of Steve’s jacket has very interesting texture. Tony twiddles his fingers a little on it, curious, and Steve makes a soft sound, an inhale.

Steve’s eyes flicker to Tony’s mouth.

That’s not Tony’s imagination. Not in the least.

“Fine,” Tony hears himself say. “I’ll go out with you.”

Steve’s gaze snaps back up to Tony’s eyes. “What?”

“I’ll let you take me out on a date.” Tony draws back, pushing his hands into his mussed-up hair to hide their shaking. Geez, he must look such a mess. He knew he wasn’t going to the party so he hadn’t bothered dressing up. “Somewhere nice, of course. Doesn’t have to be on campus, but I won’t say no to that either.”

“I...” Steve looks stunned. “Are you...?”

“It’s cool,” Tony says, waving it off. “Bucky – Winter Bucky – told me all about the song. Have to say I didn’t buy it at first, but who am I to deny the strangeness of whatever’s going on in your head. Give me a date, I’ll check my calendar.”

“What song?” Steve says.

Tony freezes – his face and mouth and body all. Except his stomach, which swoops as low as it can go. “The song you wrote about me?”

“I... don’t know about any song,” Steve says slowly.

Well.

That’s it, then.

Tony feels his face twitch into a smile that’s too wide, but not wide enough to express the cold horror now prickling its way up his limbs, spine, to his neck.

“Ah.” Tony taps his repulsors to life. “My bad.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he reaches for him, saying, “Wait, Tony—”

But Tony’s out of reach, soaring into the air as fast as his stripped-down suit can take him.


	4. I'm Taking a Half Day

Tony would like to die.

Not _die_ die, but a small kind of die that requires hiding under his comforter and never coming out until the timefog or Thanos or Dormammu destroys the entire school. He’s not sure if that destruction would ever happen, considering how his fellow students are getting better, faster and stronger every day, so Tony decides it’s better to invest in the hiding-under-comforters portion of his plan.

So he does.

He stays there all night, until Jan and Thor’s anniversary party is over and the streaming feeds of the show have signed off. He stays there until its morning, and eats the JARVIS-delivered breakfast of sandwiches under the covers, getting crumbs everywhere that will be Later Tony’s problem. He stays there all through the morning, and shoots off messages to Jan (asking for best friend-agreed private time) and Pepper (notifying that he’s playing hooky but will totally make up for it later, and that Fury can send him whatever backlog of tech requests SHIELD wants as trade-off).

Tony thinks he can make a full twenty-four hours without having to see anything beyond the safety of his cocoon of comfort.

Then he hears the tapping. It’s insistent, loud tapping somewhere very nearby, like a giant mutated woodpecker’s working on the Tower, which is not outside the realm of possibility.

Tony pokes his head out. His bedroom has eight solid panes of glass in a continuous window along one side of it, and right smack dab in the middle of pane four is Steve Rogers, hanging like a limpet.

“The hell!” Tony jumps out of bed. “JARVIS, open the window. Let him in.”

The glass pane rotates on its fine hinge, allowing Steve to inch his way inside. As soon as he’s far enough inside Steve drops on the floor, and Tony rushes past him to look out the window and down. It’s fourteen floors up the Tower and almost perfectly smooth the whole way, just as it's always been.

Tony rounds on Steve, who’s calmly dusting himself off. “What were you thinking?”

“JARVIS wouldn’t let me in the front door,” Steve says.

“Yeah, you’d think that’d be a hint,” Tony snaps.

Steve flinches, which knocks the wind out of Tony. Whatever anger he’d had is swept away, leaving behind the sudden, acute awareness that Steve’s right here, in his bedroom, while the memories of last night are still cycling hi-def in Tony’s brain. Worse yet, Steve’s looking fresh as a daisy despite having just climbed the Tower, as compared to Tony, who’s still wallowing in yesterday’s clothes.

“Argh.” Tony turns and crawls back under the covers. “Go away.”

“Tony,” Steve says.

Tony tightens the comforter around his head, hoping it’ll muffle whatever else Steve has to say. For a minute or so he thinks it’s actually working, but then he hears footsteps. Steve moves in a circle, almost aimless, and eventually approaching the bed cautiously.

Tony has little idea what state his room is in, but even the threat of Steve getting a good look at his junk isn’t enough to make him resurface.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve says quietly.

“What for!” Tony yells, because he can’t help himself. “You didn’t do anything.”

“All right.” There’s a faint rustle and the bed shifts a little, Steve sitting down at a corner. “Would you mind listening to me for, say, five minutes? I’d really appreciate it.”

Tony tries his best not to remember Steve’s face from last night, and how it’d contorted (inasmuch as Steve’s perfect face can contort) into surprise and confusion. Humiliation burns hot and heavy in Tony’s stomach, and he gives in to the ridiculous urge to stay as still as possible, as though Steve would forget where he is and wander off.

“I talked to Bucky,” Steve says. “It was hard to get a straight answer out of him, but I think he said that there was some misunderstanding and it’s not my song he was talking about.”

That doesn’t make sense, because Tony’s gone over and over and over again what Emo Bucky told him that night, and he can’t see how he could’ve misunderstood. At the same time he _must_ have misunderstood, because Steve doesn’t have a crush on him, never had a crush on him, and everything that’s gone topsy-turvy in Tony’s head is his own fault. He’d behaved like a goddamned ass, seen things that weren’t there, and projected a hell of a lot of bullshit on someone who – irritating or not – did not deserve it.

Why hadn’t Tony just trusted his instincts in the first place? Of course Steve would never think of him that way, not when they are what they are to each other, and Steve could barely tolerate him on a good day. Tony is rude and belligerent and talks too much, and the only thing of use he could do right now is to bury himself inside this mattress and never come out.

“Here’s the thing,” Steve says. “You’ve had that incorrect intel for the past few weeks, right? So this whole time you’ve been working on the assumption that there were certain... feelings... already in place. This whole time, right?”

Everything must be so clear to Steve now. How confused he must have been, when faced with Tony’s bizarre behavior.

“Yet you didn’t once make fun of me for it,” Steve says.

Tony stills, confused.

“You had leverage over me, but didn’t use it for mockery. Did that even cross your mind?”

No, it hadn’t.

“You could have,” Steve points out. “It would’ve been good sport. Well, some kind of sport. But you didn’t do that, because you’re a good guy. Whatever opinion you had of me at the time, you still didn’t stoop to that level. And I think that’s pretty damn noble of you, Tony.”

If Tony could shrink any further into the comforter, he would.

“So,” Steve says, as solemn as Tony’s ever heard of him, “I hope you believe me when I say that I would never do such a thing to you, either. If you’re afraid of some reaction from me, some teasing or joking at your expense, I swear that I’d never do that. If there’s one thing in the world you’d believe of me, I hope it’d be this.”

Tony presses his face against the mattress and breathes as slowly as he can.

“I’d, um.” The bed shifts again as Steve stands up. “I’d very much like to be your friend? Maybe? If you think that could be… Yes. I guess that’s five minutes?”

It’s a weak closing, but at least it’s a closing, followed by shuffling noises of Steve moving away.

“Use the elevator, you psycho!” Tony shouts.

Steve’s footsteps double-back and scuttle in the other direction. Tony waits until he hears the whoosh of the elevator door opening and closing, and then finally peers out from the covers. There’s just blessed solitude, and absolutely zero Steve Rogers anywhere in Tony’s personal space.

Now if only Tony could relax.

Jan finally drops by (with Tony’s permission, unlike _someone_ else) later in the evening. If she knows the full story, she doesn’t say, and instead they productively spend the time by going through Jan’s photos from her party and catching up with gossipy shenanigans that Tony missed.

The next morning is a fresh start.

Tony brushes his teeth, then stands in front of his mirror bathroom and repeats his mantra: “Nobody embarrasses me, but me.”

He reminds himself that he’s done plenty of idiotic things in the Academy since it opened, so this could be just another chapter in an already-super-packed book. There was no property damage at all this time, too, and Fury can’t be mad about anything besides the day of skipped classes which, as far as Tony’s concerned, he’s totally due anyway.

If Tony can get through the time his experimental armor malfunctioned and he’d had to streak all the way back to the Tower from class, he can get through this.

Definitely.

He goes to class via his usual route. He doesn’t arrive too early, nor too late. He sits at the back, where he usually does, and only slouches a little.

He kind of registers everyone else, but it’s mostly a big blur of noise, chatter, and small explosions, because the Academy is full of sorts of people with all sorts of abilities, living their own lives. One classroom over Hank Pym screams, “SCIENCE!” and Tony relaxes some. Everything is as it usually is, and that’s good.

That is, until someone sits at the desk next to Tony’s, and that someone is Steve.

Tony tenses up, but Steve doesn’t say anything. He just unpacks his bag, arranges his books and stationery on the table, and props his watch up at a corner of the desk to mark the time. Steve’s usual spot up front isn’t even taken, but here he is.

Steve sits there for the entire class. He takes notes, asks questions, and does not bother Tony at all.

Tony tries not think about it, or what it means. Thinking about what things mean is what got him into trouble in the first place.

It doesn’t even make sense that he’s so rattled at all. It wasn’t like Bucky’s revelation of Pure Lies confirmed some secret longing that Tony had all along, or kicked into life some fierce wish of reciprocity. If Tony could quantify it, he’s sure that the total number of seconds that he’d disbelieved Bucky’s story outright would far outnumber the total number of seconds he’d considered it might be true. So it’s not like he’d really hoped for anything, or even wanted it.

Except for right at the end. Tony can acknowledge that. At that one moment he’d given in, let himself believe it. That was one moment too many, but hey, at least it got nipped in the bud right quick.

When the class ends, Tony stands up first. He has hand-to-hand with Ares next, and he needs to be punctual. That said, he does glance back briefly, watching the back of Steve’s head for a second or two as he packs his things, before he goes.

It happens a couple more times. Steve sits next to him in class, no matter where Tony’s settled himself. They don’t talk much, beyond inconsequential things like when Tony almost steps on Steve’s backpack and apologizes. Steve says it’s fine.

Another time, Tony’s having lunch at the food block when Steve shows up at the exact same hot dog stand. They eat. Steve comments on the weather; Tony replies that he thinks Hydra School is rain seeding. That’s the extent of the conversation.

Tony tries his best not to think about it, which gets easier to do over time. It’s like there’s a fog settled in his brain. It’s actually kinda nice having it in there.

It’s not like he’s sad or anything like that. Tony knows what it’s like to feel sad, and this isn’t it. He’s just taking a bit of a mental time-out. It feels like the right thing to do, and this time he’s determined not to ignore his immediate instincts, whatever they are.

He’s aware, in a distant sort of way, that this is untenable. Either it’ll ease up gradually, or something will snap him out of it. In fact, Tony’s kind of hoping on the snap possibility, and is curious about what it’ll take. Maybe it’ll be when the school gets attacked, or Fury yells at him, or someone (he knows it was Scott last time) tries to steal his cheese fridge again.

At the next student council meeting, there’s a moment that seems to have potential, but doesn’t quite take. At first, there’s the usual items on the agenda: first responder rotation, suggestions, the list of new students for the next enrolment.

“Moving on to item three on today’s agenda,” Steve says. “The spring dance.”

Jan, who’s sitting next to Tony at the table, perks up.

“There’s been a suggestion.” Steve coughs and flicks through his notes. “Regarding the theme of the dance. Namely, that we make it a costume party.”

“Costumes,” Jan breathes.

“It wouldn’t be mandatory, of course, but it could be a fun angle to have,” Steve adds. “So, a vote. Everyone for, please raise your hands?”

A flurry of hands go up. Pepper’s hands dance on her tablet, recording the number.

Tony feels a sharp pressure on his knee cap underneath the table, courtesy of Jan’s knuckles.

This should totally be Tony’s jam. He knows this, and tries to summon the excitement he would normally feel, but only gets a mild anxiousness about the effort that he’ll have to muster up. The dance is only a few weeks away, and Tony doesn’t have anything new in his line-up, not after the wizard costume with the beard that kept getting stuck in everything.

Jan’s excited, though.

Tony raises his hand.

The suggestion goes through by some large number versus some smaller number. Jan’s eyes are already glazed over as she no doubt rummages through her mental archives for ideas she hasn’t brought to life yet. Tony feels a little bad; he needs to get rid of this pall already, if he’s going to be her dress-up buddy.

Another strange detail: Steve was among the many who’d put his hand up for the vote, but he doesn’t look that excited about it either. If anything he seems disappointed, his eyebrows subtly knitted as he fiddles with his pen.

It’s odd, but Tony decides not to think about it.

That night, Tony stumbles upon Emo Bucky in front of the Maverick Dorm. He and Natasha are sitting on the divider in front of the building, both of them silent and facing forward. Tony walks up to them and tries to follow their eyelines, but has no idea what they’re staring at.

“Bucky,” Tony says. “I need to talk to you. Natasha do you mind if – wait. Is this a date? Are you guys in the middle of a date?”

“Does this look like a date?” Natasha asks.

No parts of their bodies are touching, and when Tony had walked past, they hadn’t been talking either.

“I honestly have no idea,” Tony says.

Natasha pushes off the divider. “I’ll make a circuit.”

“Bye,” Emo Bucky says.

This is the first time Tony’s had a proper chance to talk to the Winter Soldier since the incident that shall not be named. Emo Bucky knows what’s up, too, seeing as that Steve mentioned asking him about the Song of Lies, but there is not an ounce of remorse in his stoic face.

“You told me that Steve wrote about a song about me,” Tony says. When Emo Bucky nods, Tony continues, “Why did you do that?”

“Because I needed to write the music for it.”

“No, I mean why did you tell me something that wasn’t true?”

“It is true.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Steve wrote a song about his sweetheart,” Emo Bucky says. “Who is you.”

Tony grits his teeth. “Steve never wrote a song about me. He told me that he didn’t, that he has no idea what song you’re talking about.”

“That’s true,” Emo Bucky says.

“How can they both be true?” Tony exclaims. “Either Steve wrote a song, or he didn’t, and he didn’t, so why did you tell me that he did?”

“Because he did.”

“He didn’t!”

“He did. He wrote of your eyes, how they dance in the glow of your arc reactor.”

“That,” Tony sputters. “Steve said he didn’t write anything about me.”

“That’s true.”

“I—” Tony bounces forward, raising a foot to kick the Winter Soldier in the shins. He backs off at the last minute, and deflates when Emo Bucky’s expression doesn’t change at all. “What is this? Is it a joke? Because that doesn’t seem like you.”

“It’s not a joke.” Emo Bucky sounds thoughtful. “It’s a good song. I almost have the music ready.”

It’s a lost cause. Whatever closure Tony hoped to get here will be more stress than it’s worth, if achievable at all. It’s tempting to blame the Winter Soldier for being vague and confusing, but that’d be like blaming oatmeal for being boring.

Natasha returns, carrying little bags of salted nuts despite there not being any shop on campus that sells such things. She props herself up on the divider and gives one bag to Emo Bucky. The other, she holds out, and she shakes it a little when Tony doesn’t take it.

“Oh,” Tony says. Probably best not to question it. “Thanks. Enjoy your whatever.”

“We will,” Natasha says.

Tony heads back to the Tower, munching solemnly all the way.

Jan’s well into the swing of preparing her spring dance costumes, and by the next day already has a folder of sketches that she wants to show off. After classes, she and Tony get a table at Club A, where she spreads the pages out under a set of copic pens.

“I was thinking: capes,” Jan says.

“Dancing’s going to be hard with a cape,” Tony points out.

“If Thor can do it, I can do it.” Jan shuffles through the pages, and picks up a polaroid stashed between them. “Thor’s skin tone is out of this world. Good thing I’m too well-adjusted to be jealous.”

“A role model to us all.” Tony flicks through a few of the pages. “I see absolutely no green anywhere.”

“Naturally. Oh!” Jan grabs her cellphone and swipes through it quickly. “Okay, I need to be somewhere. Take care of these, I’ll be right back.”

“I – okay?” Tony barely gets a word in before Jan’s shrunk down and flown off. Left alone, Tony returns his attention to the sketches, picking at a few of the more interesting designs. Hopefully there’s something in here that he can bounce off of. Jan always does really great things with stripes and color combos, so Tony probably just needs to stare at one of these long enough to get his brain working.

“Hi? Tony.”

Tony looks up. There’s Steve, looking polite and hopeful, and resting a hand on the back of Jan’s chair. “Is it okay if I…?”

“Sure,” Tony says. “Go ahead.”

Steve has a folder with him, though it’s significantly less stuffed than Jan’s. He makes himself comfortable on Jan’s chair, which in Steve’s case means back straight and hands set on the table like every example of good posture that others have tried and failed to instill in Tony. Steve opens his folder, which Tony now notes is of the same kind that Pepper tends to have with her.

“I have a question,” Steve says. “It’s about our training systems.”

“All right,” Tony says.

“The equipment we already have is great. Flexible, varied to adjust to our different power levels. But I was thinking that we could go a little further, start doing complex battle simulations.”

“That would need a lot of space,” Tony says.

“Yes, so I was thinking underground.” Steve opens the folder, pulling out an honest-to-goodness paper map of the campus. A whole section on the North-West is greyed out for Fury’s vaults, but everywhere else is open and dotted with blue and grey lines. “There’s enough unused area for a large complex, though it’ll require rerouting of pipes and power lines.”

“Unless it goes deeper.” Tony scoots his chair over a little, studying the map. “But what kind of sims you thinking about? Holographic?”

“That’s an option. But I was thinking bots.”

“Robots,” Tony says flatly. “You’re asking me to build robots. You.”

“Don’t you think they’d be useful?” Steve says. “There are so many students now, the one-on-one training model just isn’t enough to cope with the scale-up.”

Tony lifts the map. Underneath is a list of all students with their abilities, skill level, and priority training type. The main info’s all been typed out, but the remarks on the far right column are in Steve’s tiny, round script.

Customized group training scenarios are doable, of course. It’ll take a lot of work, and he’ll have to rope in help, but doable. Tony starts to pull the sheet towards himself, but is stopped when Steve puts his hand flat on the page.

“Tony,” Steve says, hesitant. “If you’re not interested, it’s fine.”

“Give me the list,” Tony says.

“It’s just a suggestion—”

“Give me the goddamned list.” Tony yanks the page free, and grimaces when the edge rips a little. “You want this, I’ll do it.”

“I’m not…” Steve swallows, which Tony would chalk up to a nervous tic except that that would be uncharacteristic of him. “It’s not an order or anything like that. It’s just, I had an idea and I thought I’d share it with you, see what you thought, ‘cause you’re the smartest person I know.”

“Really, Steve? _Really?_ ” Tony says. “How can you say that when we’ve got Lunelle, Riri, MODOK? You want cutting edge space tech, you get Rocket. You want cyberorganics, you get Shuri. I’m mediocre.”

“Stop that,” Steve says. “You’re not mediocre.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say that ‘cause I’m fishing for compliments. It’s a fact. It’s the way it is, and that’s _good_. That’s why we have the Academy, isn’t it? To bring together the best and brightest and make ‘em better and brighter? I’m okay with being mediocre, Steve. That’s the best-case scenario.”

What follows is another of those frustrating moments where Steve goes quiet and unreadable, leaving Tony unsure whether he should bat high or low. Tony wants to chalk up Steve’s presence as a variation of the usual squeezing of Tony as a resource, but that would be unkind, and Tony should do better than that. At least, he _wants_ to do better than that, but there’s the matter of Steve’s awkward, unexplained hovering around him, which isn’t the behavior of someone who’d want Tony’s fifteen seconds of infamy erased from existence.

“You’re so proud of the Academy,” Steve says.

“Aren’t you?” Tony counters.

“Yes, but you’re really…” Steve smiles, and Tony quickly drops his gaze to the papers in front of him so he won’t do something ill-advised, like try to memorize how Steve’s eyes change shape when his mouth moves. “You believe in this place with your whole heart,” Steve says.

“I guess.”

“I just think that’s very cool,” Steve says earnestly.

Tony shrinks under the scrutiny. Steve’s words ping around his brain, which immediately tries to turn them over, deconstruct them, pin them down to their most basic possible read. “Yeah, well, you’re the boss, you’re supposed to say that.”

“Not really, no,” Steve says. “Look, Tony—”

“Argh,” Tony says automatically.

“Tony.” Steve’s voice drops low, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t think it’s been… I mean. I’m trying to…”

Giving in to weakness, Tony looks at Steve curiously. He reminds himself that any lingering humiliation he feels is only in his own head. Steve has done nothing to merit Tony’s sniping at him (for that, at least) and he should try not to take everything at the worst possible faith. “What?”

“I, uh.” Steve clears his throat. “I’m trying, but this is really hard. I don’t know how to make friends when it doesn’t involve punching things together.”

“That makes no sense,” Tony says. “You’ve got loads of friends.”

“Because they come to me first, with all the… talking. I just go with it.”

Tony’s eyes widen. “You’re bad at something?”

“I’m bad at lots of things,” Steve huffs.

“Sure, like telling lies.”

“This isn’t—”

“I was joking,” Tony says. “Just so we’re clear. Since that’s apparently a thing for you.”

“Right.” Steve nods rapidly. “I knew that. Okay, I mostly knew that.”

Tony reconsiders the sheets of paper in front of him, and the method by which Steve brought them here. A peace-offering, perhaps? But it seems gauche to spell that out, especially when Tony can now see what he hadn’t before. Where other people twitch when they’re nervous, Steve goes still and watchful. Sure, Steve doesn’t flail or gesture as much as other people, but there are flavors in the ways that he holds himself.

 _Holy shit_ , Tony thinks to himself. That’s followed by a flicker of dismay that Tony’s mistake is what it took for this to happen, when apparently all he’d needed was to be _nice_ to Steve.

Not that Tony ever had a huge hankering to be Steve’s friend. Even in theory it had little value, because Steve was this big ‘ol self-righteous symbol who could do no wrong and made Tony feel everything _he_ did was wrong.

Except Steve is also a guy who put a folder together because he couldn’t figure out how to make small talk with Tony. He’s also funny, and petty, and a dork who’s kind to douches like Tony who don’t really deserve it.

“Thanks,” Tony says, hoping Steve can’t tell that his throat has suddenly gone tight. “I mean, good job? I think I can do something with this project of yours.”

“It’d be our project, then?” Steve says. “But I’m serious, if it isn’t something you’re interested in…”

“I’m interested. I mean, I’m not on fire to get on it ASAP, but I can tell it’s something I’d appreciate having to work on when I have to procrastinate on homework.”

Steve laughs. “I can live with that. And I, um. I never mentioned it, since it was so long ago, but it’s kind of… I made a jab at you, once. About your father.”

Tony tenses up, and is startled when Steve touches his shoulder. Steve’s grip is firm, grounding.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Steve says. “I didn’t know at the time that—”

“Okay, since you want to be my friend,” Tony says quickly, “there are some things I prefer to shove deep, deep down, and ignore with every fiber of my being, like ten to the power of ten more than other things I ignore on a short-term basis.”

Steve nods. “Got it.”

“I’m an asshole, and you’re judgmental.” Tony drums his fingers on the table, aware of the disparity in play. “I’m sorry, too, for—”

“It’s fine. I said that before, if you remember.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Tony,” Steve says firmly, which has Tony snapping to attention. “It’s fine. You believe me, right?”

It’s a bad, bad idea, but Tony does. “Yeah. I do.”

Steve relaxes. It’s not even all that visible if Tony weren’t looking for it, but it’s like a great big burden just fell of his shoulders, and he’s hunkering forward with interest, flipping through the pages and asking Tony’s opinion of other ideas he has for a new training system.

They talk for a while, just the two them. It’s nice.

The next couple of days are pretty novel. The fog in Tony’s brain has eased up, but in its place is a bemused hyperawareness of the shift in status quo, in that Tony can no longer accurately predict what Steve will or won’t do in any situation.

When Darren Cross hacks the school system to change his grades, Steve comes to Tony to ask what other methods they can use to mitigate this kind of security breach in the future on their own, without involving Fury.

When A.I.M. attempt to sabotage a school trip, Tony mistakenly assumes that Steve would be down for a reciprocal attack on the Institute. They end up in a shouting match like old time’s sake, except there are no personal insults thrown, and Tony ultimately concedes to Steve’s stance that it’s a bad idea and they’re better off hitting A.I.M. harder elsewhere, i.e. at the upcoming decathlon. Steve, despite not being on decathlon team, volunteers to help out with their preparation.

This is what it’s like to have Steve as a friend, Tony figures.

He almost expects Jan to poke fun at him for that, like ha ha, you made a mistake when you thought Steve liked you, except now he actually _does_ like you, but as a friend? Something something irony. But Jan doesn’t make fun of anything, or even comment in any meaningful way on how Steve sometimes butts in on their social time.

It should feel like a success to be able to see this side of Steve that he’d only ever heard about or observe at a distance, and for most part it _does_ feel like one. But Tony still has the nagging thought that he’s cheating somehow, as if he’d gotten here on false pretenses and Steve’s only bothering with him at all because that’s just the kind of guy he is, always giving chances to everyone.

That last part about Steve is actually true, generally speaking.

To which Tony counters his own thoughts with: so what? So what if Steve’s just being himself, or pitying Tony for making a mistake, or willfully trying to see a softer side of Tony that may or may not exist? Up until recently they’d barely gotten along, and Tony had been content with that.

Then there’s the time when Tony’s heading back to the Tower after a long day, and Steve comes running across the quad towards him, waving to get his attention.

“Hey,” Tony says, coming to a stop. “What’s up.”

“Just got out of workshop at the forge.” Steve’s still in his heavy leathers, complete with the ridiculous gloves, which he now lifts up to show Tony. “I made this.”

There’s a small metal contraption in the palm of Steve’s right hand. It doesn’t look anything at first, until Steve turns it slightly and the light catches the piece in a new way, drawing the eye down a tapering shape and a loop at the end.

“That looks like an arc reactor,” Tony says. “Sort of.”

“Hah, see,” Steve says, pleased with himself. “Sam said it looks like an ice-cream cone for Frost Giants. It’s a stand. Like this.”

“Oh.” Tony gasps. “Oh my god! It’s a stand! It opens here and—” He grabs the frame, opening the clasp to where an external object can by placed inside it.

“I didn’t have the exact measurements so I had to work by memory,” Steve continues. “I don’t know what you do with your old arc reactors, but I thought that maybe if you’d like to—”

“It’s amazing!” Tony yells. “I can make an arc reactor Christmas tree based on this! Show me how you made it.”

“Oh, I—”

“Show me, show me.” Tony realizes that he’s clawing at Steve’s sleeve. He stops himself and carefully retracts his hand, but Steve’s staring at him, his mouth fallen open in a double-take. Tony sighs and says, “I’m not making of fun of you, okay? I love it. Really.”

Steve shakes his head, as though clearing it. “Right. That’s – that’s great.”

“So,” Tony says, “you wanna sneak into the forge after hours and show me how you did it?”

“No, I don’t,” Steve says, smiling again. “But I will show you what else I worked on.”

“Fine. Buzz me whenever you’re ready, I need a shower.” Tony waves Steve off, making as if he’s about the enter the Tower. But he hangs back, turning to watch as Steve crosses the quad in the direction he came, evidence that he dropped by mostly (or only) to show off his accomplishment. It’s unbelievable – yet also believable – that he would do that, and Tony feels a swell in chest as though _he’s_ the one who’d accomplished something today.

At the back of Tony’s mind, a little voice goes: _oh no._


	5. That's Right, I'm a Genius

“Flyers,” Rhodey says, dumping the stack in Tony’s arms. “You take everything east of the Maverick dorm.”

“No, why,” Tony whines.

“Because Jan says so. Bye!” Rhodey salutes and flies off, the box containing the rest of the flyers tied to the back of his suit.

Tony squints at the glossy pages. He hadn’t seen the final proofs of these before they got printed, and they’re far more colorful than he’d been led to believe. It’s bad enough having to look at these things, but to have to look at a whole stack of them? By himself?

“JARVIS,” Tony says, “where’s Steve?”

Tony’s short flight takes him to the blasting range. The place is busy, as it usually this this time of day, but Steve gamely steps out and lets the next person in queue take his place. Tony feels a burst of glee at the gesture, especially in how Steve’s going to regret it in the next few seconds.

“What are…?” Steve tilts his head, trying to read the flyers. “Are these for the dance?”

“Yes, and you are taking some.” Tony tips half into Steve’s arms. “We’ll cover more ground if we both do them. We got to do everything of east of Maverick, and—” He cuts himself off when Steve reaches out, grabbing the rest of the flyers from Tony’s hands and reuniting the stack.

“It’s faster if we work together,” Steve says. “I’ll glue, you stick.”

“Oh. Yeah, that works.”

They start at the blasting range since they’re already there. Two flyers go on each side, both of which are immediately swarmed by chatty students. Tony and Steve ignore the hullabaloo, moving efficiently from building to building in search of flat surfaces to stick the flyers on.

They’re at the Robo Dojo deciding if it’s worth sticking one on the wall there, when Steve asks, “Do you have a costume already?”

“Nah,” Tony says. “I might go with an old one. But there’s still time, I might get inspired. How about you?”

“I’m thinking of modifying my old uniform.”

Tony doesn’t mention that Steve looks phenomenally good in his old uniform, because he looks good in everything.

“Are you going with anyone?” Steve asks.

“Vision.”

“Vision?” Steve echoes. “Really?”

“Remember the last time we gave him free rein for the music?” Tony moves to the next building, Steve following close. “We need to learn from our mistakes. DJ Tony will be on standby to prevent any undue violence.”

“Assuming you don’t incite any yourself.”

“True.” Tony takes another flyer from Steve’s outstretched hand, and wastes a couple of seconds sticking it up. At least he has the excuse to not look Steve in the eye when he says, “And you?”

“And I, what?”

“Are you going with anyone?”

“Ah. No.”

There’s a flicker in Steve’s voice, enough to make Tony turn. Steve’s got his inscrutable, polite face on, which is always cause for suspicion one way or another. Tony shouldn’t push; he has damn good reasons not to push. But he’s also a moron.

“Why not?” Tony asks.

“You know.” Steve shrugs, which explains nothing.

“There’s no one you want to ask, or you want to go by yourself, or what?”

“The glue’s going to dry out.” Steve pushes another flyer at him and starts walking. “Come on, there’s lots more.”

“The hell, Steve!” Tony bounds after him, holding to the flyer by the tips of fingers. “That was positively vague. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Steve says. “I would just like to finish this.”

“What’s the rush? You’ve got nothing to do later.”

“Do you know that?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Steve rounds on him, stern. “ _Tony_.”

Tony’s mouth snaps shut. “All right. You don’t want to share, then you don’t want to share, and I’m going to do the right thing by not pointing out that you asked me first. Because I’m nice.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, cheerfully refusing to rise to the bait. “You did say all buildings east of Maverick?”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s keep going.”

Here’s where Tony’s at.

He likes Steve. Yes, he can admit it. The guy’s okay when he’s not being a pompous dick, which is actually a lot of the time now that he thinks that Tony’s an okay guy, too.

All right, that’s unfair. Steve’s always been an okay guy, it’s just that Tony couldn’t see beyond the end of his nose, and Steve returned the favor because he (correctly) didn’t owe Tony anything. But a twitch and a nudge have the world turning on its axis, proving that Steve isn’t perfect, isn’t flawless, isn’t a lab-made creature sent to the Academy to make Tony feel bad about himself.

This new awareness bumps up with the fact that Tony’s apparently really, _really_ easy, just like all the jokes he’d made at his own expense and only halfway believed, except now they’re true. All Steve’s got to do is smile in his direction and Tony’s doing ridiculous shit like twisting his feet inside his boots to stop from bodily launching himself at Steve.

Naturally, this is a heinous series of events. It would’ve been heinous even before Emo Bucky became the Father of Lies, but it’s even more heinous _now_ , for Tony’s pretty sure that Steve feels sorry for him over what went down. Sure, when Steve feels sorry for someone he does it in the most uplifting and kind way possible, but he still does it.

This, in turn, has Tony latching onto the possibility that Steve has unexpressed feelings for someone else, with defensive curiosity at first, and then enthusiasm. Tony could ignore the entire matter out of self-preservation, but facing it head-on could work even better, because in doing so Tony would prove to himself that he’s not a terrible person (or maybe just not _always_ a terrible person), if he manages to be a supportive and helpful friend instead.

There are other benefits to Tony’s putting all his energy into this. The first is making Steve happy, which has become an annoying priority. The second is that it could help Tony get his own feelings out of his system, like a type of reverse therapy. The third is that by finding out who Steve likes, then Tony will have concrete evidence of Steve’s type.

Steve must have great taste. It has to be someone nice and funny and smart. They could be boring, because Steve might go for that, but boring’s not automatically bad.

Yet while Tony can conjure up vague details, this is still just theory, and he needs to pin them down on someone real. (There’s the possibility that Steve’s crushing on someone awful like Doc Ock, but Tony hopes not because that would _really_ strain the supportive friend angle that he’s working for.)

Knowing for sure would shut down everything else that’s bouncing around Tony’s head. It’d give him an actual person to measure up to and come up short. No more wondering.

The problem is that there are quite a few options. Steve’s popularity casts the net pretty damn wide, and the Academy is bursting at the seams with interesting people, let alone attractive people. (Steve is definitely not shallow, but there are way too many attractive people here, so by the laws of probability he’s likely to be into someone hot.)

Tony tries to poke a little bit, making suggestions and dropping hints here and there around Steve, but they don’t work much.

The farthest Tony gets is a very casual question-drop while they’re having playing games in the dorm common area one evening. Steve is wrecking the high score when Tony very smoothly drops in with, “Hey, I just wondering, do you prefer blondes, brunettes or red-heads? Or none of the above. Just curious.” Steve responds by decimating the level boss, carefully typing in his name for the winner’s board, and changes the topic to Fury’s extension plans along the waterfront.

Tony obviously can’t ask Steve’s closest friends, because that would just be weird. The next course of action has to be a scientific one, by putting together a list of all students on campus and ranking them from Very Likely to Least Likely.

This takes a surprisingly long time, even with Tony mentally sorting the list during classes and after-classes and training.

It’s not just listing people, either; it’s also listing people against traits that Tony thinks Steve would be into, which he already doesn’t know for sure and thus creates an even greater margin of error. He goes over the list back and forth and back and forth, until one night he finally narrows the names down to ten, then five, then three, in a descending order.

The names are perfect. Utterly perfect. It’s very, _extremely_ likely to be number one, but if not, it has to be number two or three. There’s no question about it.

Tony should feel accomplished, but instead has to go lie down for a while and have JARVIS play some music really loudly.

Tony repeats his mantra over and over again, accepting that any embarrassment to be had will fall upon him only. Tony’s reputation for being a dumbass will keep Steve safe and sound, and everyone will live happily ever after.

It’s surprisingly easy to find Sharon, her white suit easy to pick out among the bodies clearing out from the last classes of the day. She has a tote in one hand and a paper bag in the other, and although she looks busy, she slows when Tony waves at her.

“Hey, Sharon,” Tony calls out. “If I could have—”

“You can’t have my hamburger,” Sharon says.

“I’m not here to steal your hamburger,” Tony says.

“That’s good,” she says cheerfully. “What can I do you for?”

Sharon’s really pretty. She’s also smart, athletic, sweet, and is one of the very few SHIELD-affiliated students who are genuinely fun to be around. Tony remembers dreading her in the early days, expecting her to be a carbon copy of Maria Hill but with a negative-image uniform, but no – Sharon’s a big ‘ol nerd who has no qualms about making bad puns, poking fun at Fury’s policies, or sneaking contraband into the dorms. She’s pretty tight with Steve, too, and Tony knows they’ve gone on a number of off-school missions together to great success.

So, yeah. She’s perfect.

Tony checks that there’s no one around who can listen in. Sharon notices this, and immediately comes in close, urging Tony off the main path to a corner with more privacy.

“What’s up?” Sharon asks.

“Okay, so.” Tony rubs his hands, gearing himself up. “You can take absolutely everything I say personally, and feel free to shut me down – though I guess I don’t need to say that, since you know me. This is about Steve.”

“An excellent topic,” Sharon says. “What about Steve?”

“Do you happen to know who he wants to take to the dance?”

Sharon’s smile freezes a little. “That is an interesting question.”

“Have you considered that maybe—” time to go for broke, “—he might want to take you?”

Sharon’s smile is full-on frozen now. She slowly looks up at the sky, then round, then back to Tony, which seems a random series of movements but is perhaps some SHIELD surveillance-check routine. “Let me get this straight,” she says. “ _You_ are asking if _Steve_ wants to take _me_ to the dance.”

“Yeah,” Tony says testily.

“Oh my god,” Sharon says quietly. “No, Tony. Steve does not want to take me to the dance.”

“Are you sure, because—”

“I’m sure.” Sharon inhales deeply. “Have you asked him who he wants to go with?”

“Yeah, and he’s being an ass about it. I don’t know if he’s embarrassed or what. Has he told you anything?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Sharon says airily. “But I can promise you that it’s not me.”

“Please tell me it’s not Peggy. Because that’s kinda—”

“It’s not Peggy.” Sharon puts her things down and, to Tony’s befuddlement, takes Tony’s hands in hers. “Here’s what I think. No one can give you the right answer to that question but Steve. You could ask anyone and everyone in school, but you will get absolutely nowhere unless you go right to the source. I promise you.”

There is wisdom in that, but. “I did ask already. He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Ask again,” Sharon says. “A little pressure won’t hurt. Steve’s weird, he’d probably appreciate it.”

“Steve is weird,” Tony agrees.

“There you go.” Sharon punches Tony lightly in the shoulder. She has a very warm smile, and Tony finds himself returning it automatically, despite having the nagging feeling that he’s missing something. Sharon isn’t the duplicitous sort, though. “You can do it, slugger,” Sharon says.

“Uh… maybe don’t tell Steve I asked?” Tony says.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sharon says primly.

If Tony takes too long to psych himself up for something, he usually ends up not doing it. Either he gets distracted by something else, or he gets too comfortable in the process of psyching himself up that the effort of moving on to the next step feels insurmountable.

In this case, Tony shouldn’t need to psych himself up at all, because he’s already asked Steve this very question – once, directly, and multiple times indirectly. Steve’s familiar by now with how badgering Tony can be, so he shouldn’t be surprised if Tony rounds back on him with the same question one more time.

But when Tony thinks about it, the pieces don’t quite jive the way they should. Sharon was too confident with her answer, despite full-on admitting that Steve hadn’t told her anything. The fact that Steve hadn’t told her anything was another point of interest, too. Steve may not be a fan of overshare, but the idea that he hadn’t told his best friends this critical bit of information is kind of… sad.

The only possibility that Tony can come up with is that Steve might _actually_ be into someone awful like Doc Ock. In fact, Steve’s wriggling around the issue could very well be a cry for help. This makes it Tony’s duty to put aside whatever nausea he might feel at the concept, and be as positive and reassuring as is humanly possible.

The next time Tony gets Steve by himself, they’re on the quad having coffee between classes. Well, Tony is having coffee, while Steve is doing some shield-tossing exercises over the notice board.

“You know what we need,” Steve’s saying, “is an Olympic-sized swimming pool.”

“I… am actually surprised we don’t already have one. Huh.” Tony tosses his empty coffee cup at the nearest bin and stands up to scope the area. The near side of the Academy is really packed by now, but where there’s a will, there’s a way. “You think Loki will let us bulldoze his beach?”

“I’m quite fond of the beach, actually,” Steve says. “It’s nice that it stays warm even in winter.”

“I think that’s Frigga’s doing, not Loki.” Tony sets his fingers in a square frame, trying to picture a swimming pool. “A pool is totally for athleticism, so Fury’ll definitely approve it. How about a set-up where we can change the density of the water, so as many students can use it as possible? Or even, like, different types of liquid?”

“That is a really good idea,” Steve says.

“You know what else is a really good idea? If you tell me who you want to take to the spring dance.”

Steve pins Tony with a flat look, and catches his shield one-handed. “Anyway, lifeguarding would be a good training post for students as well. Though for the main support we’ll probably have to lean on more bots.”

“Why don’t you want to tell me? Is it, like…” Tony checks their surroundings quickly, “…Osborne?”

“What? No!”

“So there _is_ someone.”

Steve sighs. He flips and twists the shield in his hands, though that seems more an excuse to keep his hands busy than actual exercise. “You know how there are some things about yourself that you’ve asked me not to talk about? Do you think I could request a returned favor?”

“About _this_?” Tony says in disbelief. “It’s just a dance.”

“To you, maybe.” Steve flushes, realizing what he’d let drop. Tony sits up sharply, enthralled by the pink at Steve’s neck, even as Steve tries to cover it up by scowling at nothing in particular. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I won’t laugh,” Tony says quietly. “You don’t have to tell me, but no matter who it is, I won’t laugh. Even if it’s Osborne. I just want you to know that.”

Steve fumbles with the shield. His expression softens, and he clutches the shield to his front in an endearing display that has Tony wanting to swoop in for the kill.

“Thank you,” Steve says. “It’s really nothing. It’s just, I can’t ask them, so I’d rather not talk about it.”

“You can’t ask them?” Tony echoes.

“There’s no point. Even if I did ask them, they wouldn’t believe me.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know,” Steve says wryly.

“That’s just way too defeatist, especially for you.” Tony’s mental list is completely useless now. He has to prop it up against brand new metrics, and with even less time. “I mean, we’re friends now, right. You don’t have to tell me who it is, but I can still help out.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I don’t get it,” Tony presses. “Since when do you give up just like that?”

“I said drop it.”

“All you need to do is put your back into it, give it all you’ve got. Isn’t that what you like to say?” Tony realizes that Steve’s face is getting red again, though this time with frustration, which is far more useful to the purpose that Tony’s getting at. “Look, we can work this out, figure out a couple of scenarios, draw up a battle plan together.”

“Right,” Steve says tightly, “because you’re such an expert at asking people out.”

Tony’s mouth falls open. He stares, shocked, while embarrassment burns hot and unexpected up his spine. It isn’t even as though that’s a particularly harsh jab, but it’s the fact that it’s Steve saying it that makes it cut sharp.

“True,” Tony hears himself say. “Right.”

Steve’s face twists, apologetic. “Tony, I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, you’re right, I can’t help,” Tony blurts out. “I’m just the expert at getting shot down, what would I know?”

“I _know_ you know that wasn’t meant as the insult you’re taking it as,” Steve says. “If you’re going to be passive aggressive—”

“Yeah well you’re a butthead.”

“I did tell you to drop it. Are you entitled to know everything now?”

“I didn’t start it, you started it!”

“That’s not… what?”

Tony’s next very pithy, very devastating retort is cut off when the Academy siren goes off. Tony feels a wave of relief at the sound, though that’s apparently not shared by Steve, who looks close to exploding. Yet even in this state Steve’s able to pull out his communicator and calmly ask what’s going on.

“ _It’s Hydra School_ ,” Pepper says. “ _Their blimp is approaching_.”

Steve nods, somber. He flicks the communicator to the Academy-wide channel, and in a voice that, even now, has Tony’s heart leaping, calls out: “Avengers, assemble!”

“I’ll assemble your face,” Tony mutters.

“Where are you going?” Steve says. “Suit up, Tony.”

Tony stares. “You’re kidding me.”

“Suit. Up.” Steve does the two-finger point at him, marking the end of all argument. “Be at the gates in three.”

For once, Steve’s made a knucklehead decision. Even Tony knows that he shouldn’t be out here with the rest of the primary strike team, holding Hydra School’s latest attack at bay. Tony was more than willing to sit this one out, and let the actual level-headed people take on the job of protecting the school. But _no_ , Steve had to be all, get on the job, Tony, don’t think you’re playing hooky on this one.

This isn’t about playing hooky, _Steven._

The Hydra School blimp is a monstrosity, and Hydra’s attack on the Academy even more so. Red Skull apparently wants to show off some mighty new weapons that they got their hands on, but it just seems to be… lasers.

It should be a clean knockout, and on any other day, it would. But today Steve’s having a conniption and Tony can’t do anything right, and the team comms seem to be filled with nothing but their sniping at each other.

“I don’t need to be here for this,” Tony grumbles. “If I were at the Tower, I could set up the array, disable them remotely.”

“ _Riri’s already on that_ ,” Steve says, his voice tinny but not tinny enough in Tony’s ear speakers. “ _You need to focus on the job that’s right in front of you_.”

“That would have been the job right in front of me!” Tony says. “Team positions don’t get assigned by lottery!”

“ _Guys_ ,” Natasha says. “ _There’s a power surge at the blimp, looks like they’re prepping another gun._ ”

“ _Hulk will collect them all!_ ” Hulk exclaims, taking a soaring leap upward.

Tony swerves away as another laser fires by his flank, and retaliates with a few blasts from his fists. His suit’s singed a little, but his repulsors can compensate well enough.

“ _Watch your six, Tony,_ ” Steve says.

“Now you’re telling me how to do my job, too?” Tony snaps. “There are over one hundred students on campus, so if you want to shove your weight around, you can do it with—”

“ _I’m just telling you to watch your six_ ,” Steve says calmly.

Tony turns on his axis, his HUD highlighting Steve’s position on the ground where he’s doing hand-to-hand and throwing the shield around. Tony opens his mouth to make a snarky comment on Steve’s six, but instead spots a group of three Hydra hostiles climbing over the waterfront railing. Tony flies, a burst from his boots sending him in a low, swooping arc around Steve.

Tony just registers Steve’s startled step sideways, which thankfully gets him out of the three hostiles’ line of fire.

“Pop ‘em,” Tony tells JARVIS. His arm rockets rush forth, taking out two; the third gets a knock from Tony’s repulsor, and flips over the railing to splash back in the water.

“ _Tony!_ ” Steve exclaims. “ _Get out of the way, you’re_ —”

Tony turns on him, glaring despite the Iron Man mask. “Oh so that’s the thanks I get for—”

Something hits the back of his head with a massive _clang._ It’s Steve’s shield on its return trajectory, and Tony falls forward, the suit bearing down and sending him faceplanting on the grass. Tony lies there for a long second, appalled and horrified, while JARVIS reads out his vitals.

“Tony.” Steve’s voice is dual-layered between the actual thing nearby and the remote voice in Tony’s ear speakers. “Tony, are you all right?”

With a great deal of effort, Tony braces both hands on the ground and pushes himself up. Steve’s there, worried and hovering, one hand clasped on Tony’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Steve says, “tap out. I’m signaling Rhodey.”

“Nope, you don’t get to make that call.” Tony flexes his shoulders and fires the sub-rockets at the back, helping him to stand up. “You wanted me in, so I’m in. I’m finishing this.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Steve says crossly.

“I’m stubborn? _I’m_ stubborn.” Tony shakes his head. “Where’s the blimp? Hulk, you need back-up?”

“ _Hulk has all under control_ ,” Hulk says.

“Step out, Tony,” Steve says.

“How ‘bout you, Nat? Where you at? I’m—” Tony tries to lift off, but is stopped by Steve – _holy shit_ – holding on to his arm. Tony fires up the rockets a little more but Steve just skids a few inches, clinging firm like a living anchor, his face grim with determination.

Tony kills the flight rockets, landing back on the ground with a faint thump. Steve, who knows better, doesn’t relax his grip. In retaliation, Tony reaches around Steve, grabs his shield from its magnetic frame, and tosses it away.

“Hey!” Steve says.

“Fetch,” Tony says.

Steve shakes his head. “You need to tap out.”

“Oh look, Hydra’s stealing your shield,” Tony says. “They’re running! Oh no, you have to stop them.”

“ _The shield’s fine_ ,” Natasha says.

“Hey!” Tony exclaims. “That isn’t—oh my God, Steve. Just let go!”

“Not until you say that you’re going to tap out.”

“I’m going to repulsor you in the face.”

“You won’t do that because it would be bad, just like you heading back into battle after you just got hit with the shield.”

“Passive voice. ‘Got hit’. As if the shield was just flying around and randomly decided to hit the back of my head.” Tony, conscious of the power of his suit, smacks lightly at Steve’s fingers, trying to get him to release his hold. Steve just yanks harder, which – to Tony’s shock – has his whole suit tipping slightly to one side. The glint in Steve’s eye suggests that he’s contemplating a choke-hold.

“You want to go, Tony?” Steve says. “You think you can take me? Even with the suit?”

“Are you kidding me, I would—”

Tony yelps at a sudden, sharp pressure at the back of his neck. He and Steve are forcibly pulled apart and dragged backwards, side by side, towards the campus gates. Tony strains to read the HUD, thinking that it might be Hulk holding them, but it doesn’t register a body signature.

Once he and Steve are just outside the gates, the invisible force spins around. Standing right there waiting for them is Nick Fury, who flexes his Infinity Gauntlet and drops them unceremoniously on the ground.

“Rhodey, Wilson,” Fury says. “Batter up.”

Rhodey and Sam fly overhead, joining what’s left of the fight.

“Tony, out,” Fury says. Tony obeys silently, stepping out of the suit and scuffing the grass under his sneakers. Fury raises the Gauntlet and snaps his fingers, summoning the vibranium shield to his side. “Steve, I’ll be holding on to this for a while.”

Steve gasps.

“Ha,” Tony says quietly. He shuts his mouth when Fury eyeballs him.

“The two of you shall stay here until I say otherwise,” Fury says. “Is that understood?”

Pepper steps up, shaking a can of vanishing foam that she uses to draw a circle around Tony and Steve. Tony gives in, immediately dropping to sit on the ground and stretching his legs out in front of him. Steve stands for a while longer, still vibrating a little from adrenaline, but he eventually sits down and take off his helmet.

Fury nods, satisfied, and returns his attention to the fight.

Tony could feel mortified, but he _did_ want a time out, so he’s genuinely grateful to get one. That Steve’s also in the time out is a bit of a win-lose bonus, because obviously Steve could’ve gotten more done if he were still out there leading the team, but it’s not like Tony forced him to lower himself to Tony’s level.

“How’s your head?” Steve asks.

“JARVIS checked it. Shock-absorbers worked fine.”

Steve nods and is quiet again, focused on the fight going on in front of him. As for Tony, he leans back, arms propped up behind him, and relaxes.

The Avengers win, of course. Red Skull seems a bit perplexed by the fact that Steve’s no longer on the field, which maybe accounts for how quickly the whole thing is wrapped up. Or maybe Hydra are just that awful, which is just as likely.

The strike teams return, reporting in to Fury as they pass through the gates and into the party that almost always rises up spontaneously after a fight like this. Tony waves at Rhodey and Hulk as they pass; Rhodey mouths that he’ll save some food for him.

Fury rounds up the wrap-up, coming to stand in front of Tony and Steve’s time out circle with his arms crossed. “When the lines disappear, you can head back in.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says.

“What if there’s an emergency?” Tony asks.

“Do you want to know what my Plan B is?” Fury says.

“No, not really,” Tony admits.

Fury heads back in, leaving the two of them by themselves. Tony doesn’t think Fury’s being strictly serious about obeying the circle, but he doesn’t mind keeping to the letter of the law this one time. It’s pretty peaceful out here once it’s cleared up, with the noise of the campus behind them and the long, mostly-green pass leading to the city in front of them.

“Sorry about earlier,” Tony says. “All of it.”

“Oh.” Steve is surprised, then rueful. “Yeah, me too. I’m not sure what came over me.”

The petty part of Tony crows silently because, _hah_ , he got to the apology first. It’s a genuine apology, because he’s genuinely sorry, but it’s also nice to get a one-up on Steve where he can.

It’s funny – Tony really was angry earlier, and the reasons for that anger are still valid. (Steve is an ass.) But a shake and a rattle later and the anger’s irrelevant, settled down like packed sediment while other more important things swim around in the forefront of Tony’s consciousness.

Tony had forgotten the high-level objective of this whole endeavor, which is that Steve’s friendship can’t be taken for granted. They’ll probably never stop arguing for as long as they know each other, but they need to see those hard limits and stick to them, for the greater good.

“You should’ve benched me,” Tony says. “I’m kinda high-strung.”

“Yeah.” Steve smiles, contrite. “That’s neat that you can recognize that in yourself.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s neat that you can stay even-keeled. You get more stuff done that way.”

“I don’t know, it has its downsides, too. I bottle things in, which isn’t so great.”

Tony looks down, picking at the nearby blades of grass. The circle is starting to fade, but he wouldn’t mind staying here a while longer, with or without Steve. With Steve would be nice, because damn, he’s easy on the eyes when relaxed like this. Even when sitting mostly-undignified on the ground, his body’s a long line of strength and breathtaking confidence, a pin-up brought to life. Then there’s his face, his eyes – the way when he looks at you, you know without a doubt that you have his full attention. It’s heady stuff.

Steve clears his throat. “Why do you want to know who I want to take the dance?”

“Curious,” Tony says.

“Is that it?”

“Sure.”

Steve leans over, bumping his shoulder to Tony’s. It’s such an unexpected move that Tony laughs, startled.

“C’mon, tell me the real reason,” Steve says quietly. “I’m curious, too.”

“Oh, you know.” Tony can feel himself giving in, charmed by Steve’s exaggerated shrug and gee-whizz wide eyes. “So I can help you out.”

“But _why_?”

“Because…” What’s the stupidest thing that Tony can possibly do at this point? Tell the truth, probably. “I want to be sure that you’re not feeling sorry for me.”

“I really don’t understand your thought processes sometimes,” Steve says, though he sounds far too intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Because of the thing I said.”

“What thing you said?”

“The thing I said at the thing after the thing.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t work for me.”

Tony groans. It’s like ripping a band-aid off, isn’t it? And nobody humiliates Tony Stark but Tony Stark. As long as he controls the narrative, everything’s fine.

“That night, when I misunderstood everything…” Tony drops his voice low, not because he’s afraid anyone else will hear, but because speaking things out loud makes them harder to forget, “…and I said that I’d go out with you.”

“Why would I feel sorry for you because of that?” Steve asks quietly.

“Because.” Tony tries to glare at Steve, but there’s nothing but guileless confusion in his expression. He cannot believe he has to spell this out, what the hell. “Because it’s _sad_ , Steve. It’s sad to want someone when they don’t want you back. If you’re going to the dance with someone else, I know that it means you’re not holding back because you feel sorry for me. Get it?”

“Ohhhhhh.” It should not be possible, but it truly seems as if this had not crossed Steve’s mind. A ripple seems to pass over him, and his expression clears to a sharpness that is, frankly speaking, alarming. “Okay,” Steve says under his breath. “All right. Here we go.”

That sounds, oddly enough, like someone trying to give themselves a pep talk.

“Tony, you trust me, right?” Steve says.

“I guess?”

“Trust me for this.” Steve’s exuding an intense, urgent earnestness, which is bewildering all on its own, let alone when coupled with the way Steve shifts over a little more, a conspirator almost pressing his hip right up against Tony’s. “Trust me, and hear me out.”

“Uh,” Tony says. “Sure.”

“Imagine that there’s this guy you know,” Steve says. “You don’t know each other very well, but one day, he starts being… kinda nice. At least, nicer than he normally is around you, and you think, maybe there’s an agenda there? Some purpose at play?”

“Okay,” Tony says slowly.

“So you decide to ride it out, see what’s going on,” Steve continues. “But the guy seems genuine. It’s not like he’s suddenly sweet-talking you all the time ‘cause that’d just be…”

“Too Loki.”

“Yes, exactly. He’s not too Loki, not laying it on thick, but there’s definitely something happening. As it keeps on happening, the only thing you can think of is that the guy might be… you know. Interested. So you start wondering about that, and you think you could be interested right back. With me so far?”

“I think so,” Tony says, dread slowly creeping up on him.

“Then you find out, from the guy’s own mouth, that _he_ thinks _you_ got interested in him first.” Steve waits, watching as Tony processes this. “As far as you know, the only reason he ever even thought about you in the first place is because he was giving you a chance based on something that wasn’t true. There wasn’t anything really _there_ on his side, it was all just… theory. And although he’s hurtin’ afterward, as far as you can tell it’s only because he’s embarrassed about the misunderstanding.”

“Right.” Tony swallows and looks away. “Yeah, I see.”

“Plus he’s a little high-strung,” Steve says. “Fun to hang out with, though.”

They sit there quietly. Steve’s said his piece, which means it’s Tony’s turn, unless he ignores everything that’s been said and returns to the Tower. Fury’s circle faded long ago, so he technically could. He also thinks that Steve might even let him, and Steve would continue on his ridiculous trajectory of trying to be as decent a friend to Tony as possible, even when he’d thought that he didn’t have a chance. Was what even the point of that? That being Tony’s friend was enough?

Utter madness. (Also, _holy shit._ )

Tony can’t believe he ever thought that he was suave. His brain’s blank, and the only thing he can think of is that Steve’s sitting close enough that he can feel his body heat up the line of his arm.

Okay. Back to basics. No one-liners.

“Where would you have taken me?” Tony says. “If you didn’t blab that night and just rolled with it.”

Steve inhales sharply. “Um. Well. I think off-campus would’ve been nice. At least for the first date, just to get away from everyone.”

“Dinner?” Tony asks.

“And afterward I’d take you to the docks. It’s really nice at sunset. Good ambiance. We’d take my bike.”

“No way,” Tony says with a laugh. “I’m not riding that.”

“I’d obey the speed limits,” Steve says. “And get you your own helmet.”

“I already have helmets.”

“Then you’d make _me_ a matching helmet.”

“Actually, yeah, I would.”

“And I’d ask you to the dance,” Steve says. “Maybe not on that night itself, but soon after.”

“Efficient.”

Tony’s feeling rather light-headed. It’s not every day that dreams come true like this, let alone with very little bloodshed involved. He’d think it a dream, except that he’s much smoother in dreams, and does not get pins and needles from sitting on the ground for too long.

Steve straightens up, head tipped back a little as he lifts his arms to stretch. He moves with all the subtlety of a foghorn, letting one arm unfold in the air before settling it on Tony’s shoulder.

“Amazing,” Tony says.

“Thank you,” Steve replies.

Tony turns a little, his brain skidding as he parses that _holy shit Steve’s right here_. Steve’s presed up against him, with that strong jawline well within poking distance. But Tony won’t poke Steve’s chin, at least not now. Instead, Tony lets his head tilt inward, and rests it at the crook of Steve’s shoulder.

Steve makes a sound that could be a breathless, “Oh wow”, except it’s drowned out by the rapid-fire drumming in Tony’s chest. Tony closes his eyes, basking in Steve’s up-close presence. He smells good, too, despite the slight funk from the early fight. Masculine, welcoming.

When Tony opens his eyes it’s to the sight of Steve’s gazing at him. Steve’s eyes are soft and unbelievable fond. Tony remembers hating this guy, but damn if that doesn’t feel like two thousand years ago.

“You’re real pretty, Tony,” Steve says softly.

“I think you mean devastatingly handsome,” Tony says.

Steve grins. “That, too.”

It can’t be presumptuous to tilt his head up, so Tony does that, lips parted. Steve responds by angling his head down, meeting Tony halfway so their mouths brush. It’s light, experimental, not quite a kiss. Steve’s breath on Tony’s lips make them tingle, though Tony’s ears and fingertips are tingling as well.

Tony adjusts himself, pushing up against Steve’s shoulder, and then they’re kissing. Just a press at first, closed-mouth and gentle. Steve’s lips are firm, smooth, and even more kissable up close. Steve’s fingers are on Tony’s face, tracing a line across his cheek and down his jaw, and then framing him carefully as he leans in to deepen the kiss.

Steve’s mouth open, hot as a furnace. Tony slips his tongue in, awkwardly at first, but with growing confidence thanks to the startled noise Steve makes. Tony presses in as firmly as he can, nose brushing Steve’s cheek, lips moving in a rhythm against Steve’s.

This is probably not what Fury had in mind when he put them in time out.

They make out for a while longer, until Tony’s hip really starts to hurt from sitting on the ground. He pulls away, clinging to Steve’s shoulders and breathing heavily. Steve’s enormous hands stay on him, stroking down his back and fiddling with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. It’s a lot.

Tony’s whole body is thrumming, and his fingers feel fat and uncoordinated. “I need to message Jan. I promised I’d let her know if me and you ever got together.” He pauses, looking at Steve. “We are together, right?”

“Yes, definitely,” Steve says firmly.

“Great.” Tony manages to get his phone out, and is only mildly distracted by Steve’s nuzzling the side of his face. “Do you want me to ditch Vision for the dance?”

“Don’t do that,” Steve says. “I’ll still see you there.”

“Couples costume, though?” Tony laughs when Steve’s face lights up. “Okay, that’s a yes.”


	6. Epilogue

All right, so Tony’s an idiot. This isn’t new information. It’s merely the scope of his idiocy that has been extended.

To be fair, Steve’s an idiot, too. How he could have not understood what was going on with Tony, and that it was more than just embarrassment that had dropped him low? Sure, Tony himself barely understood what was going on and took far too long to acknowledge to himself how much he’d gotten invested in the idea of Steve, but that’s no excuse.

They bypass the post-fight party, opting to eat in at the Tower and watch cheesy telenovelas until Steve’s self-imposed curfew kicks in. Before Steve goes, he gives Tony gets a goodnight kiss, which Tony thinks would lead to a very good night’s sleep.

But no, it’s the opposite. Tony ends up tossing and turning almost the whole night, and waking up to check his phone for the ridiculous selfies they’d taken that evening – with their faces shmooshed together and Steve looking utterly charmed with the fact that Tony was climbing all over him – just to prove to himself that it really happened.

The next morning, Tony gets up, cleans up, and dresses up. He leaves the Tower a little earlier than usual, and goes to the Guardians sector to fetch coffee. Jan is there, too, as are a couple of other early risers, bonding over the most important meal of the day.

“Okay, so,” Jan says by way of greeting, “if you’re gonna do battle, you better bring your A game. Because I’m not going to waste my time on lazy. Got it?”

“Got it.” Tony inclines his head when Steve approaches. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Steve says, settling by Tony’s side. He’s combed his hair and everything, and it is by sheer willpower that Tony doesn’t run back to the Tower, bury his face in a pillow and scream _oh no, oh no_ repeatedly. Steve turns between Tony and Jan curiously. “What A game?”

“She’s throwing down the glove,” Tony says. “Over couples costumes for the dance.”

“Ah.” Steve sets his hand on Tony’s waist, along the line of his jeans. A little tug brings them in a gentle hip-check. Tony does not spontaneously vibrate out of his skin, which is a good thing, because then he hears the faint gasp nearby – Kamala, who’s trying to pretend she’s deep in conversation with Bruce.

“It’s not a _competition_ competition,” Tony says.

“I’m sure you and Thor will do a wonderful job,” Steve says.

“Oh is that how it is?” Jan says, planting her hands on her hips. “I’m on to you. Plus I’ve got a head start.” She salutes them and flies off, her breakfast bagels held out in front of her to prevent damage.

“I guess we can delete the chatgroup now,” Kamala whispers.

Tony’s head snaps around. “What chatgroup?”

“Oh look Carol’s calling me bye,” Kamala says, fleeing in a rush of elongated limbs. As for Bruce, he merely shrugs, unperturbed, and resumes munching on his sandwich.

“I’m thinking,” Tony says, peering up at Steve, “you stick with your old uniform idea, and I’ll be the nurse. Get it?”

“Could that just be an excuse to get me to dip you all over the dance floor?”

“No,” Tony says. “But now that you’ve mentioned it?”

“Shameless,” Steve says solemnly.

Even with Steve right here, walking the slow circuit with him to class, it doesn’t feel quite real. It’s not just the fact that it’s Steve, whom Tony hadn’t even known he could want this much until recently. It’s also the fact that this time, Tony can see clearly the steps and swerves it took for them to get here, and for Steve’s presence to be a sensible culmination of all of the above.

Tony understands why Steve’s here, wanting him back.

“There’s something I want to…” Steve coughs, flustered. “When I got back to the dorms last night I had trouble sleeping. Like my brain couldn’t switch off.”

“Aww, I’m flattered,” Tony says.

Steve bumps his shoulder against Tony’s. “So I, um. I sketched a little. Then wrote a little. And before I knew it I’d written down a…” He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “I know it’s odd, after what happened.”

“What is that?” Tony asks.

“It’s a poem. Sort of.”

Tony gasps and clutches Steve’s arm. “I bet it’s awful. Show me.”

“You can’t say that.” Steve raises his arm, keeping the paper out of reach when Tony attempts to take it. “It can’t be awful if I wrote it about you.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I think you’re wonderful for writing me bad poetry.”

“Hey—” Steve laughs, leaning away as Tony tries to grab at the paper. “I’ll have you know that I managed a very clever metaphor about how the light of the arc reactor reflects in your eyes.”

Tony stills. “Show it to me.”

Steve hesitates, thrown by Tony’s sudden change. “What’s wrong, why—”

“Show it to me, Steve.” Tony finally gets his fingers on the paper, but Steve lets go before Tony gets a good grip. The paper flutters, bounces upward when Tony’s hands try and fail to catch it, and is swept up in the slipstream of the nearby Quinjet taking off.

They watch as the paper flies over the Area 13 Lab and the outer wall, and disappears into the timefog.

“Ohhh,” Tony and Steve say in unison.

Steve huffs a laugh. “So I did write you a song. Bucky could’ve just said that he found a time-displaced piece of paper with my handwriting.”

“That’s such a Winter Soldier thing to do, though,” Tony says. “Can’t be mad.”

“I suppose not.” Steve turns to Tony, fondness and contentment rising off of him in near-palpable waves. Steve’s only _looking_ at him, yet there’s energy bubbling under Tony’s skin like he’s achieved some impossible, improbable, inconceivable accomplishment. Though that may just Tony’s feverish brain struggling to process the recent turn of events.

“Hold my coffee.” Tony puts the container in Steve’s open hand, and then slides his arms over Steve’s shoulders. Steve’s eyebrows twitch in surprise, but he goes with it, his smile widening when Tony leans in to kiss him.

Tony’s in so much trouble. But that’s okay.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr post!](http://no-gorms.tumblr.com/post/180790404691/this-is-the-fic-i-wrote-for-marvel-trumps-hate)


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